At Wild Magnolias
by faerie5
Summary: Set after Rilla of Ingleside, follow the lives of the Blythes and the Merediths after the War. Chapter 15 is up please read and review!
1. After the War

Chapter 1: After the War 

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**1**

The sweet summer breeze blew through the Glen, rustling poplar boughs and sending golden daffodils and poppies nodding cheerfully in its wake. The sunset painted the sky with its glorious hues of gold and red, with hints of the pale purple twilight deepening into night.

Anne sat at the porch, setting down her sewing to watch the panorama of night unfolding with a little ache in her heart. The mellow Indian sunlight was failing- summer was passing by and with the falling of the leaves from the branch, two of her sons, Jem and Shirley, would be leaving once again for Redmond. 

Mingled laughter floated down to her from the upper gable- the voices of her twin daughters, Nan and Di. Anne was glad to hear those girlish giggles once more- laughter had been so rare these past years. Since the onset of the Great War, laughter had been a rare commodity but the cause had been won and the boys were home. She sincerely hoped that it was the beginning of good times again.

Anne was so caught up in her thoughts that she failed to hear the door swing open, to admit Susan Baker and her youngest daughter, Rilla. 

Anne smiled as the two took their seats beside her. It was hard to believe that this tall, red-haired beauty had once been the chubby, roly-poly Ingleside baby. Rilla was nineteen now and engaged to Kenneth Ford- that happy fact was helping her regain that youthful sparkle that she had lost in the years before. To be sure, Rilla had grown in leaps and bounds, her character challenged and tried by grief and loss, and patient waiting but she had emerged from the test, not a girl but a strong woman.

"We're to be married next summer- so the whole clan could be in attendance," Rilla was saying as she they sat down. "Faith won't be back until October and Ken has decided that he wants to us to wait until he can put his business in order and be stable before we are wed."

Susan nodded approvingly, "Sound sense. The boy has a good head on his shoulders. And that will give us enough time to prepare Ingleside for the wedding- there are a lot of details to be taken care of, aren't there, Mrs. Doctor Dear?"

"I can hardly believe that my Rilla would be the first of my girls to get married," said Anne, with a teasing sparkle in her eye. "Why I remember hearing you talk of nothing but beaux and the round of parties you were to attend once you were out."

"Oh Mother, I was such a silly girl, wasn't I?" Rilla threw her arms around Anne affectionately. "I can imagine now how it wouldn't have been very pleasant- I did feel so badly after refusing Fred Arnold. But there's no other boy for me than Kenneth and I'm quite willing to be his Rilla, forever and ever."

"Oh we'll just have a regular round of weddings, aren't we, Mrs. Doctor Dear?" Susan smiled in satisfaction. "Ken and Rilla… Jem and Faith and Jerry and Nan…"

"Oh that won't be for a few years yet, Susan," objected Anne. "Jem will have to finish his course in medicine- and even with the accelerated program, it will be awhile before he and Faith can get married. And I hear that Jerry is planning to become a minister so he and Nan will have to wait until he graduates from Redmond."

"Fancy the boy becoming a minister!" ejaculated Susan in surprise. "There never was a gang who got in more scrapes than the Merediths."

"Jerry has changed quite a bit from that time," put in Rilla. 

"As have all of us, I'm sure," Susan replied a little shortly but Anne could see worry in her eyes.

Shirley Blythe had only been home for a month- he would be leaving for Redmond tomorrow. Outwardly, he was still Susan's "little brown boy"- with his brown hair, brown eyes and clear brown skin. To Anne, he seemed little changed by the war except to grow even quieter. Anne sometimes wondered and worried over Shirley's retiring nature- he was not in the least bit adventurous Jem or dreamy, eloquent Walter. It was often so hard to know what Shirley might be thinking or feeling. 

It must be doubly hard for Susan, Anne thought sympathetically. She had been like a mother to Shirley. It was she who had nursed Shirley after Anne's long illness, who kissed him goodnight and soothed away his childish fears. Anne had talked long about the war with Jem- she knew some part of the terror, the cruelty and the pain that he had endured at the front. But with Shirley she had only brief and tattered glimpses of his experience through his letters- he was reluctant to speak of it, and Anne had not the heart to force him. She could only hope that books and classrooms might heal him where Ingleside could not. 

"And what are the twins up to?" Susan asked, changing the subject abruptly. 

"Oh, they're upstairs packing," responded Rilla. "They leave tomorrow with the boys."

"I wonder at Di taking that job at the Ashton's," Susan said in a reproving tone. "I heard that there was an opening at the Mowbray-Narrows school."

"You needn't worry about Di, Susan. The Ashton's are a very respectable family. They're old family friends of my chum, Philippa," said Anne.

"I think Di took the job to please Nan," said Rilla soothingly. "The Ashton place is at Redmond's backyard and Nan will want to stay close to Jerry."

Rilla had spoken the truth, but not all of it, thought Anne. The war had ended but it left its scars on everyone. Di had been very intimate with Walter in her youth. She could imagine how difficult it was for her daughter to live day after day in Ingleside, to be confronted by so many memories of the dear brother who gave up his life in Courcelette. Anne suspected that it more to escape these memories than to be near Nan that had influenced Di's decision to accept the offer of nursery governess at the Ashton's. Sometimes Anne felt that way herself but she had had more time to confront her grief and make her peace with it. The twins, busy with their studies at Redmond and later, their Red Cross work, may only be facing the crisis now.     

Anne turned her face towards Rainbow Valley, that green dimple of a land now haunted by ghostly memories of childhood scrapes, banquets and grand adventures of a merry band. Now there was only silence, the trackless passing of innocence past. How one wished to turn back time and bring back unblemished yesterday!  

Rilla took her mother's pale hands between her browned ones, giving them a sympathetic squeeze. Her eyes had followed her mother's into a Rainbow Valley in shadow. It was too easy to close her eyes and hear their childish laughter ringing in her ears, too easy to see a handsome boy with dark hair, splendid gray eyes and a vision grande.

Rilla was not surprised by this familiar pain, the grief that at times, still seemed too new. _Will the wound ever heal? For any of us?_ wondered Rilla.      

**2**

Diana Blythe took an armful of carefully folded dresses and neatly tucked them in the open suitcase of her bed. She surveyed her room- it was usually as neat as a pin, but now it looked dismally bare- looking to see if she had forgotten anything. 

_Oh well,_ Di shrugged philosophically as she snapped her suitcase shut. She was rooming with Nan anyway, anything she forgot, Nan would have brought. She looked affectionately at her twin's luggage- the heavy trunk in addition to a mountain of bulging suitcases. One would have thought she was planning to leave for years…

Di's smile faded. She loved Jerry like a brother, but to lose her twin on top of…

She shook her head. _Don't think about it._ Think about tomorrow, working for the Ashton's.

Di felt a pang of guilt. She could have taken the teaching job at the Mowbray-Narrows school- dad had offered her the car and that would have made it possible to stay with him, Mother, Rilla and Susan. She knew Mother wanted to have them near her- they'd had so little time together and since Walter's death, every moment now was doubly precious to her. She should have taken the Mowbray-Narrows job and stayed at Ingleside.

But her staying couldn't halt time. It couldn't make everything what it was before. Even the golden sunlight streaming in from the windows couldn't dispel the gloom that had descended on Ingleside. It had been easy when she was at Redmond- she had books, classes and friends to keep her busy, to keep her from thinking about it.

But now it felt as if Walter confronted her at every turn and corner of Ingleside. They had been such great chums- she told him all her secrets and kept his, even from Nan. It seemed that she could hardly enter a room without a memory of the two of them, whispering and laughing together, meeting her there.

It was easier for the others, thought Di wistfully, without a trace of bitterness. Jem had Faith, Rilla had Ken, Nan had Jerry. Even Mother had Father to lean on. But she was alone.

_Stop it, Diana Blythe!_  she said firmly. She was not going to feel sorry for herself. 

But she couldn't help the desolate feeling deep in her heart when she thought of all the changes happening to those that she loved. That was why she had to go away- she needed a little time away from Ingleside, a little distance from familiar things that caused pain each time they were recalled. She needed time to get her bearings, pursue her own interests. She needed time to heal- when the wounds were no longer raw, then she could return to Ingleside. 

Her eyes fell on her neatly made bed and realized that a packet of letters lay there, looking forlorn and forgotten. They were Walter's letters.

Di gathered the sheaf of papers, her eyes running over the familiar, well-read lines. Should she?

No… no matter how painful it was, she couldn't do it. She could not leave Walter's letters behind. 

The door creaked open- it was Nan. She looked at Di wordlessly, recognizing the papers Di held, her brown eyes soft and tender. 

Nan had suffered also, Di remembered. She could never forget the stricken look on Nan's face, or the way she had sobbed into her pillow so that Di wouldn't hear her, the day she heard that Jerry had enlisted and again, when Jerry had been injured at the front. 

As usual, Nan seemed to have read her thoughts. Twins understood.

"I know. I miss him too," Nan said simply, her arms unfolding and enveloping Diana. 

Diana was surprised to feel the sting of tears and wondered when her heart would ever find peace again.  


	2. New Beginnings

Chapter 2: New Beginnings 

**1**

Dear Mother,

It's been a very busy moving-in day for us. From the noise in the kitchen, Nan and the others are busy unpacking pots and pans so that Una can cook our very first dinner, but I thought I'd take a moment to write to you so you wouldn't think you were forgotten, Mother.

Persis found us the dearest little house- it's just at the end of Nightingale Lane, away from the noise and bustle of the main road. I was very glad that Persis decided to room with Nan, Una and I- she's to write a weekly article for a magazine at Kingsport. The rent is expensive but between the four of us, it could be managed. The house is a little out-of-the-way and rather a long trek to Redmond and the Edgewood School but Una and Nan don't mind it at all, for it's such a romantic walk out to the road. There are trees all around that shade the walk with their leafy arms and let in dancing shafts of liquid light. Along the walk you might smell cool mint, citrusy lemon grass and old-fashioned vanilla- there's always a delightful spiciness in the air. 

The house is rather small, with cream-colored walls and a yellow-tiled roof that make it look like one of the golden-thatched cottages out of a story book. The garden is a perfect riot of buttercups and tulips, with a lovely willow tree standing over them like a graceful princess surrounded by her handmaidens. It's fenced all around but some of the wood is rotten- Shirley volunteered to fix if for us and then we'll set aside a day to paint it. In some places the fence is overgrown with wild rose bushes, which is why romantic Nan named it the Rosebud Bower on the spot. A nameplate over the fence calls it "Steppington House" but we felt that the name is more suited for a stately mansion than a wee cottage such as this, so the Rosebud Bower it will remain. 

The Rosebud Bower is as cheerful inside as it is outside. The living room is small and papered with a cream-and-gold flower print. A row of small tulip shaped wall-sconces and a pretty picture or two adorn the walls. And there's a fat little couch with round yellow cushions on it that look like doughnuts that is so inviting and so soft that one just sinks into it.  

There are three bedrooms in the house – we've decided that Nan and I would share the big blue bedroom upstairs and Persis will take the one next at the back, for she needs quiet for her writing. Una will be staying at the little garret upstairs, which is the coziest place in the Bower. The ceiling slopes down like a tepee and there are all sorts of delicious shadows in the corner.  

Jem, Jerry, Carl and Shirley stayed a little while and helped carry Nan's and Persis' luggage, as well as move some of the furniture around, but left us alone after lunch to our decorating mania. 'Playing house' they called it- and they're right. It reminds me of the time Jem built us a playhouse in Rainbow Valley. It was really just a bower of branches and blankets but it was very well-furnished in imagination. We've heaps of plans for this place- as soon as Nan is finished teaching tomorrow, we're going shopping for a bookcase for Una's garret. 

Now I must end this letter for Nan is threatening to give my share of the roast to Persis if I don't help her with the salad. Moving in is hungry work and given Persis' appetite, she can finish two plates of roast as easily as one.  Send my love to Father, Rilla and Susan

Your loving 

Di

**2**

Dearest Mother, 

Today was my first day at the Ashton place and despite all the questions I've asked Aunt Phil about the Ashtons', I still wasn't sure what to expect. 

I realize that I have very little experience in this area- teaching is entirely different from being a nursery governess. The principal of my school in Lowbridge once told me that a teacher's job is simply to instruct, to fill the young mind with facts as if it were bucket and knowledge was water to be poured in. I know now that it isn't entirely so- a teacher is more than a repository of theories and equations, but someone to laugh, sympathize and encourage her pupils in all their cares and aims in life. 

But as a governess, my relationship with the children will be much more intimate. I won't be boxed in by classrooms, standing in front of them or sitting behind the teacher's chair. I will be with them, in their homes, sitting elbow-to-elbow with them at study hour and eating with them at mealtimes. I will be present in all their plays and plights. I have become in a way a keeper of souls, with all its hidden and unfulfilled potentialities for greatness and for good, there to nurture and protect.  

The thought makes me shiver and I spent half the night tossing and turning in bed, wondering if I'm equal to the task, until Nan threatened to have me sleep on the floor if I didn't keep still.   

I arrived at the Ashton place at eight thirty on the dot. The Ashton place was a handsome Tudor mansion that had an air of stately aloofness, as if it was too good for the rest of the houses on the street. It was bordered by a gate of black iron, its grills shaped like a row of spears, like soldiers guarding the queen within. The smooth concrete path was bordered by plots of geranium and led to marble steps. The polished double doors had an ornate door-knocker shaped like a lion, brass freshly polished and gleaming. 

The estate's name- Wild Magnolias as proclaimed by a brass plaque at the gate- is a bit of a mismatch, I think. There's nothing at all wild about the Ashton's Place but it's beautiful in its own way severe way, from the stately spruces, neat flower-beds and the well-kept lawn.

I rapped at the door with the brass knocker, which was rather charming, and the door opened to present a tall, chilly looking woman. She wore a dark brown dress and had a long narrow nose, sharp eyes and a rather pinched mouth, as if she were tasting something unpleasant. 

"And you are…?" she inquired, in frosty formal tones.

"Diana Blythe, ma'am," I answered, in a polite a tone as she could manage. 

"Ah, the new governess," said the woman. "Mrs. Ashton has been expecting you." 

She ushered me in the opulent living room and I suddenly understood what Aunt Philippa meant when she said the Ashton's were one of the "Bluest of Bluenoses". The floor was gold-veined marble, covered by a rich, thickly woven carpet. The drapes were red velvet, tied off with a thick gold cord with tassels. A collection of porcelain plates and vases were displayed in a beautiful glass bookcase in one corner. 

The woman, who had yet to introduce herself, bade me sit at the silk-upholstered sofa. She appeared a moment later, saying, "Mrs. Ashton would like to see you now, Ms. Blythe." It had the air of a pronouncement, as if she were a court minister announcing that the queen would be seeing me now. 

The parlor was an expanse of marble floors, with windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, flooding the room with golden light. A fire roared at the green marble fireplace.

Mrs. Ashton sat an elegantly appointed chair with gilded arms and curling legs. She had a regal air in her red silk dress, with her dangling onyx earrings. She glanced at me with her mysterious, cool brown eyes. 

"Do sit down, Ms. Blythe," she gestured at the seat across her with her thin, aristocratic hands. Between them was a round table- gilded and with the same curling legs- with a pot of tea and porcelain cups on a silver tray. "That is Ms. Pickford, the housekeeper. She's in charge of matters around the estate and you will direct your inquires to her. But today, I felt that it would be good to have a little chat. One can never be too careful with whom one can leaves ones children with."

Mrs. Ashton took a sip of tea, indicating with a quirk of her eyebrows that she would like me to do the same. She has one of the most expressive faces I have ever seen, with delicately modeled features and a rosebud mouth. I remember Aunt Phil telling me that Mrs. Ashton had been an actress before marrying Mr. Ashton, who died some years ago. She asked me a few questions about my education and family, as we sipped sweet cinnamon tea.   

"As you know, Mrs. Gantry, the children's former governess, had to leave to nurse her ailing mother. That left me in quite a bind- since my husband died, I have been in charge of all business matters and I just don't have the time to mind the children."

"You'll give the children lessons in the morning, have lunch with them and amuse them in the afternoon. You may leave after their afternoon snack at four.  By then my eldest daughter Alma will be home and can look after them. Have you a place to stay, Ms. Blythe?"

"Yes, I live at Nightingale Lane."

"Good. I would have offered you accommodations here but as I've told Philippa, my spare room has been promised to the daughter of a dear friend of mine. She's from England and will be arriving tomorrow.  I trust those hours are fair, Ms. Blythe?"

Diana nodded and Mrs. Ashton stood up, smiling. It changed her face wonderfully, her brown eyes crinkling with kindness and good humour. "I suppose its time for you to meet the children then." 

Mrs. Ashton led Diana to the children's playroom, which was a very cheerful apartment. The walls were papered in a buttercup yellow print. A gorgeous wooden rocking chair sat at a sunny corner with a white wooden bookshelf. A large toy chest covered with carvings of exotic animals overflowed with dolls and dress-up clothes. A model train set, its tracks running through tunnels in mountains and through an exquisitely modeled little town, had been set up in another corner.

The Ashton children looked very much like their mother. May was nine, with smoky dark brown eyes and curls, and a pouting rosebud mouth. At five, Grace looked like a miniature of May, though her brown eyes were rather shy and solemn.

But I must tell you about Aaron, who in one meeting impressed me as one of the most adorable little boys I have ever met. He had delicious chestnut curls, fine china blue eyes and a dimpled grin. When I came in, he had been entirely absorbed in watching the model train as it wove in and out the buildings of the little town. But when he looked up, his blue eyes beamed at me, as if it were entirely natural for him to meet anything and everything with a smile. There sprang an almost immediate kinship between Aaron and me. As Miss Cornelia would say, the Race that knew Joseph has recognized its own.   

Mrs. Ashton left us to 'get acquainted'. There was a moment, which might have been awkward, if Aaron hadn't taken my hand and gamely invited me to Grace's tea party.

She had an adorable plaster tea set with tiny cups, saucers and even a little sugar bowl arranged on a low wooden table. Aaron was the 'Lord of the Manor', in top hat two sizes too big for him and a red bow tie that must have belonged to his father. Grace was the 'Lady of the House' in a lacy blue bonnet and yellowing satin gloves. Of course, I also had to get in costume –I was a 'Visiting lady' in a floppy royal blue hat with white plumes and flowers. The various 'Members of the Household'- May's stuffed animals, completed the guest list. We drank pink tea and pink cake- Grace was quickly won over by my declaration that her pink cake was "quite as good as Cook's"- a suggestion Aaron whispered in my ear. Grace turned red as a poppy and almost spilled Flopsy the Bunny's cup of tea. 

May however was a cat of a different skin. On the whole, she was rather sulky and sullen. She thought herself too 'grown-up' for dolls and tea parties, and turned down our invitation with disdain. She sat at the corner reading, but occasionally she glanced over at us, her mouth puckered as if we all annoyed her immeasurably. I think she looked at me, wearing that blue hat in particular, with an expression I can't quite read or understand. It was as if I was offending her somehow, but that couldn't be it.   

May not withstanding, we had a very jolly time but I was feeling pretty discouraged. I really wanted to begin the lessons on a good note, and I was worrying over what I could do to make May comfortable with me. I think beneath the sulkiness she's actually very unhappy over something. Then I remembered your experience with Anthony Pye, Mother. I guess Rome wasn't built on a day. I got the impression that the Ashton's might be a little bit like mint chocolates– they're really very sweet, if you could get over their surface spiciness, their cool spells. 

I really must get to sleep now- Nan, Persis, Una and I spent so much time talking that I had a very late start on this letter. I suspect that the coffeepot will be overflowing tomorrow. My compliments to Susan for sending us the recipe for her jam roly-poly- they're just the thing after a long day's work. 

Hugs and Kisses 

Di 

**3**

Belovedest Mother, 

There are no unalloyed joys in the world, as I have found out in my past few days as a governess.  

First the good: Working for the Ashtons' is a delight, most of the time. Grace and I get along swimmingly, and Aaron just gets sweeter and dearer every day. There's always a surprise waiting for me at the playroom, whether it's a scribble-scrabble poem from Aaron or a 'ankersheef' with three stitches from Grace. The two are good-tempered, jolly children and we are just like the Three Musketeers frolicking along the house. 'Cook', who is a smiling, energetic woman, is always fixing us the most delicious concoctions and she makes sure that there is enough for me to take home a bite or two to the Bower. She is _almost_ as good a cook as Susan. 

Even Miss Pickford has warmed a little. Since she has been in the service of the Ashtons' for nearly fifteen years, she is strict and rather protective of the children. However, she told me the other day that she thinks I am a 'suitable companion' for the Ashtons' and has since then even graced me with smile or two. 

I have no problems teaching the Ashtons' for they are very clever children. Grace is starting to read now and Aaron can cipher sums quick as lightning. Even May, who acts as if lessons are not quite worth bothering about, has the memory of an elephant and never gets the capitals of nations in geography mixed-up.   

Which unfortunately, brings me to the pill in all this jam. I have not made much headway with May. I don't think that she dislikes me exactly- I don't think she even cares one way or the other. Which makes things worse for I would rather be liked or disliked than be looked at with indifference as if I were a piece of furniture. She never joins us in any of our romps- often she would read alone in the library. Sometimes, she would take walks by herself but I've yet to find out what she does in these walks. I, Diana Blythe, have sworn to find out. I instinctively feel that if she would let me in her shell, the two of us could be great friends.  

I have made a discovery today that shows there is a little ray of hope. Today I was racking my brains, trying to think of something to amuse her. I finally suggested that we read aloud from a chapter book that I noticed May loved.  

"I suppose so," May said in that indifferent tone of hers but I noticed a gleam of something in her eyes. 

I gave her the role of the heroine, Princess Penelope, who was running away from the cruel vagaries of her wicked stepmother. 

May was a revelation. It was like watching a statue come to life. Her eyes flashed with anger or shone with tenderness. Her lips trembled fearfully, smiled gaily, scowled fiercely. Her voice rose in shocked exclamations or fell in sweet whispers. Even at nine, she was Princess Penelope, in a way I never could have been– splendid, sentimental and occasionally silly.  

"That was fantastic. No actress onstage could have done a better Penelope," I told her clapping warmly, hoping that a little encouragement would draw her out. "Would you like to read the next chapter as well? Penelope dresses up as a page and enters the service of Lord Davenport." 

"If you don't mind, I'd rather read by myself," she said with a shrug, sitting down at the rocking chair. "I don't like to read aloud anymore. Alma says play-acting is childish."

"I know that's what Alma thinks, but what about you? I don't see why you couldn't do it occasionally, if its something you enjoy," I said gently. 

I didn't want to directly contradict anything her older sister had to say- but I knew what I saw.  May loved acting.  She may say that she no longer liked it, but we both knew better. I saw it in her eyes, starry, alive and burning with passion. 

"Our housekeeper Susan Baker was always criticizing my brother Walter for wanting to become a poet," I took out a poem that I kept in the leaves of my journal. "But contrary opinions couldn't keep him away from what he loved most– and he wrote some beautiful things."

I read them "Wind of Autumn" which is my favorite of Walter's poems because it reminds me of Rainbow Valley and all the spendthrift, carefree days we spent together. 

Grace and Aaron listened intently but May was not impressed. "I'm too old for fairies. And boys writing poetry? Why, he must be as big a sissy as you, Aaron," May remarked with a sneer. 

Aaron's cream cheeks colored but he said nothing. I just stared at her dumbly.  

Her eyes lowered uncomfortably. I think she sensed that she had struck a nerve, but at that point, I didn't care. "Sorry, but it's true. Alma said…" Her voice trailed off. "I'm just going off to the library to read." 

She slipped off silently and I let her.         

I know I should have rebuked her for saying such a cruel thing to Aaron. I should have told her to apologize… but I couldn't. It was dreadfully unprofessional of me but I found that I couldn't even look at her. I had to turn away or else I would have slapped her. How could she say such a thing? She didn't know the first thing about Walter- about who he was and the wonderful person that he is. It was such a silly, childish thing to say– but sometimes I find that it's the childish, thoughtless statements that can hurt the most.  

At this point, luckily Grace was very sleepy so I put her down for her afternoon nap. I was in no mood to play so I asked Aaron to work on some extra sums. Aaron, the little duck, made no complaint and did his very best to jolly me out of my blue mood.

Now that I've had some time to think about it, I'm not angry at May anymore. The memory still stings but I'm beginning to glean that the root of it is not May, but Alma, the much-admired eldest Ashton.  After meeting Alma, I just wonder how much of what May said is really her opinion, and not her sister's. Alma goes to St. Joan's Academy in the mornings and is out with her friends so often that she's seldom home before dark. She did bring her friends over this afternoon and ate with us, so I was finally able to take a closer look. 

I didn't like what I saw at all. Alma is fourteen but acts as if she were twenty-five. She has an effusive voice and a penchant for italics, Byronic language and outrageous slang. I don't think I would quite mind the flowery language, if I thought she understood the words. She introduced me to the children as "the children's governess" and that position seemed to relegate me to Untouchable status. They never spoke to me directly except to ask for more drink and snacks.  

She and her friends talked incessantly about boys and fashion- they had attended a party last night, which she and her friends chattered endlessly about. Talk revolved around who wore the best dress and who danced the most dances with the handsomest boys. I wouldn't have minded a little gossip but so much of it was malicious- a constant tearing down and airing-out of jealousies and petty grievances, apparently against everyone outside of their charmed circle. 

After hearing a parade of catty comments, I have concluded that the object of May's worship is not worthy of such idolatry. The problem is how to wean her away from such influences!

I wouldn't end my letter on such a bad note, so I left of the greatest discovery of the day for last. It was after May had left for the library and Aaron was working quietly on his sums and I was sitting on the rocking chair. I must have looked despondent because he placed his chin at my knee, looked up at me with those big blue eyes of his and said, "Won't you come and take a walk with me? I am going to introduce you to a friend of mine," he said confidingly.

"I don't think we should leave the house, dear. Grace might want me for something," In truth, I really didn't feel like entertaining company just yet.

"She won't wake for an hour or two yet. Come on!" He skipped to the door and beckoned to me with such a beguiling, mysterious expression that I couldn't resist and followed him.

He led me down a long, narrow hallway with a small, nondescript, almost forgotten-looking door at the end. "I am going to introduce you to Wild Magnolia," he said as he put his hand on the doorknob. 

"But you already did, the first day," I said. I had already taken a tour of most of the ground floor, with the music room, the small library, the enormous kitchen and the formal dining room. 

"No, I haven't. This house isn't but the skin of Wild Magnolia. But the real Wild Magnolia…" he opened the door slowly, "is here…"

The door opened up to a beautiful meadow that rivaled Rainbow Valley in beauty. The sight reminded me of lines in Hopkin's poem, Pied Beauty,

GLORY be to God for dappled things,   
For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow,   
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;   
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls, finches' wings;

It was a riot of colors, spilling, speckled with all sorts of growing things. At our feet was a twisting little concrete path, bordered by wild grass and lovely brown and yellow poppies. Stately Magnolias towered over us, keeping us delightfully cool in its shade and peppering the path with quivering rays of light. 

We walked down the path very slowly- it was worn with age, cracked in places where small green tips were beginning to shoot up.  Aaron pointed out bluejays and hummingbirds that flit like bright jewels among the flowers. There were birds nests hidden among the grass, bunches of pink and purple asters, showy daffodils in a sunny corner. 

"Ssshhh," he said, suddenly stopping. He crouched behind a rose bush and motioned for me to join him. 

"What is it?" I asked curiously, taking my place beside him.

"If we're quiet, she might come," Aaron said mysteriously.  

"Who?"

"The dryad," Aaron said in all seriousness, then amended, "Well, she's not really a dryad- but I pretend she is," The path had opened up to tiny clearing, hidden from us by a curtain of leaves. "Come look!"

The clearing was surrounded by several young birches, and fringed all around with bushes. There was a lovely woodland pool in one corner- so shallow you could see the bottom, covered with pebbles in shades of gray, pearl and white. The surface of the water covered with lotuses yet to bloom.    

There was a girl sitting by the pool, small and slender as a child. She really is the image of a woodland dryad. Her hair was long and silvery-blonde, her face small and heart-shaped. Her skin was as white and soft as rose petals. Her face was bent over a journal, one hand scribbling with a pencil and the other dangling over the pool, fingers dabbling at the water. 

"I suppose we shouldn't disturb her," I said for she was scribbling away, lost to the world around her.  

So we walked back to the house. Aaron explained that she was actually the niece of Mother's friend who was staying with them. "Her name is Faye and she studies at Redmond, so we don't see her much.  She eats dinner with us but she's awfully quiet. Or maybe its just because Alma talks so much. She's pretty though, don't you think?" 

I agreed… she wasn't a classic beauty, but she had an elusive, elfin charm about her. I found out more from Alma, who did not hesitate to give me her opinion.

"She's really dull and pokey. Always sitting in her room reading, or staring at trees and drawing in that notebook of hers. She's very introverted," Alma let the word roll of her tongue, proud of having used a word none of her sibling could understand. "She's always wandering about in the woods out back. I thought she would have more city polish, you know, since she did come from London. But she doesn't have a hint of sophistication. I don't know why Aaron is so taken with her," that last remark a curious mixture of disdain, sulkiness and envy.

Evidently, Alma does not like this girl, which means that this Faye and I would get along famously.

I know that this is a voluminous letter, and I won't inflict you with such a long one again.  Life with the Ashtons' is shaping up to be more interesting than I thought it would be- certainly more interesting than marking papers for the Mowbrays school. I really hope one day you could meet the Ashtons' especially Aaron, but for now these letters will have to serve as your link to them and to your loving... 

Di 


	3. To be Someone

Chapter 3: To be Someone 

**1**

_Nice to be back behind college walls,_ reflected Shirley as he strode along the Redmond campus. A buzz rose in the air, filled with the chatter of co-eds about classes, professors and boardinghouses. The freshettes stood in nervous clumps, fluttering with excitement and anxiety at starting college. He noticed one or two pretty faces but mostly, he reveled in the energy that surrounded him.

Jem had left for the School of Medicine, Carl for the Biology department and Jerry for the School of Divinity but Shirley didn't mind being alone. He was quiet by nature and solitude suited him. He liked to be alone to observe and think.

He reached his building and pulled out his pocket watch. It was one of his treasures, an old-fashioned gold one with a chain that Dad had given him. He remembered playing with it as a child, fascinated by intricate gears click-clacking as they went round and round. He always set it twenty minutes early because he hated being late.

The lecture hall was still empty- he had fifteen minutes before class began. He took a seat at the back, where the professor would likely not call him. He hated being forced to recite and have all eyes trained on him. I'm the only one in the family without a gift of gab, Shirley thought wryly. 

Then again, he had always been different from the other Ingleside folks. A cat of a different skin, as Susan Baker might say. And different not in a glamorous, other-worldly way like Walter, who most people considered a poetic genius. No, his difference was of the more mundane kind. He was simply… ordinary. He had never had Jem's adventurous spirit, his zest for life, or Walter's passion for beauty or the girls' winsome charm. No, he was simply quiet, sober Shirley. 

He was not jealous- he was by nature too serene to be. He had been content to be the quiet one, to stay in the background. But that was before the war, before everything had changed. 

He thought about Walter and Courcelette. Oh, the war had not been the glorious adventure that Jem had dreamed. It had been ugly, dirty, filled with many moments of cruelty, bloodlust, pain and death. What thought was given to patriotism and self-sacrifice disappeared in the heat of the battle. In the battlefield, there was only the savage struggle, to kill or be killed. And when the field had been won, the taste of victory was paid in blood, over the broken bodies of friend and foe alike. Under the watchful eyes of the stars, there was only desolation and grief.

It was for this reason that he had joined the Air Corps. Flying above the land, he was removed from the mighty struggle- he would not have to see the grime, the blood, the dead and the dying fall around him. Flying above the land, he could face the enemy on his own terms, not as one face, indistinguishable from hundreds of faces in a chaotic mass of grime and gunfire, but as Shirley, who would do right for his country, for family, for freedom. 

But all that had changed in one night. His plane had been shot, and he was forced to land of enemy territory, just south of the border. 

He thought of one desperate night of fire and darkness, gripped with a terrible fear of being captured. He remembered long silences broken only by the blinding light of explosions. He remembered hiding from shadows and listening as he had never listened before, praying that he would not be detected before he reached the border, before he reached safety. 

But most of all, he remembered the voice of his co-pilot, crippled by an exploding shell, giving him…forcing him… to take his rations and his weapons.

"You have hope of escape. I do not." Even then, Jack's voice was cracked and weary. "If you try to take me with you, we'll both be captured. I will not let you sacrifice yourself for a dead man."

Shirley stood up- the empty classroom sounded too much like that silent clearing where he left his fellow soldier to die. 

_The Great War is over_, he reminded himself. He was out in the corridor now, where the air seemed freer and the world brighter. It's over, and now everyone was trying to move on with their lives. But the secret of peace had been lost to the world- just as his was lost to him that day.

Shirley stared out the window, overlooking the green lawns and concrete walks of Redmond. Muted conversations floated from below him but he did not hear them. 

He remembered the moment when the voice of the enemy and the tramp of his boots seemed terribly near, and he was sure… so sure… that they would find him. He realized then that it was not death that he truly feared. It was to die forgotten and alone, nameless and faceless, unmarked, in a strange, uncaring land.

He thought also, of Walter. It was so strange, but he had never envied his brother in anything until he died. "The Piper" had traveled to so many places, touched so many hearts, and uplifted so many troubled and wearied spirits. Shirley remembered reading it and weeping for the brother who had gone before him- but Walter would live on in the lives of many that he had inspired to "keep faith". 

How he longed to be like him now! He could no longer live as he once did, a mere shadow scuttling in the dark. He wanted his life to mean something. In the hour of his greatest fear, he had called for Mother and Susan, and had seen Jack's eyes, staring calmly at his retreating back as he had scurried away to life and freedom. They had given him the strength to go on when his courage had almost failed him. 

How he longed to be like them! To be that someone, that flame that could sustain, for somebody. 

But he was not. He was just Shirley.

Would they have wept for him as they did for Walter, if he had died in his place? He feared that they would not. It was a terrible thought, one that made him feel so small and mean that he couldn't speak of it. 

He shook his head, trying to free himself of such thoughts and to his relief, there was the sound of soft footsteps. A girl had stepped onto the landing. Shirley watched her out of the corner of his eye, grateful for the distraction, as she walked down the corridor. 

The first thing he noticed was how small she was, and slender as a blade of grass. She was dressed in velvety sky blue trimmed with black ermine. She made a stacatto click-clack sound as she walked slowly down the hall. 

As she came closer, Shirley noticed with gentle amusement that her boots had stacked heels. Even with that, she barely came up to his shoulders. Her pale white face seemed too small for the thick coil of silver-blonde hair bound clumsily at the nape of her neck. A few tendrils had escaped this bondage and waved gracefully about her face. She tucked one behind her ear absently. 

She walked about the halls with an air of quiet wonder. What was she was dreaming of? Shirley wanted to know. How sweet the expression on her face, suggestive of sunny skies and enchanting climes, as if she knew the secret to a faraway place beyond mundane college hallways.  

She barely seemed aware of where she was going, and as a result, she was almost face-to-face with Shirley before she noticed him. 

"Oh, hello," she exclaimed, startled to find anyone there. She took a hesitant step back, blinking.   "I'm so sorry… I didn't see you there," she said with a sheepish smile. 

Their eyes met and her cream white skin turned pink. She had lovely eyes- large, sparkling green ones, with little flecks of gold. He had never seen anything like it. Her mouth opened then clicked shut again, but there was a question in her eyes. 

"May I help you?" asked Shirley. He had never seen her before but surmised that she must be a freshette and still unfamiliar with Redmond.  

"I…I was just looking for the Lecture Hall. I'm taking Professor Edmunds' World Literature class," she said softly, with a delicious English accent. 

"Around the corner and two doors down," directed Shirley with a smile.

"Thank you. I have a terrible sense of direction. I'm always getting mixed-up and turned about," she admitted shyly. "I guess I better be going."  

Click-clack went her stacked heels as she walked away, though faster now than before. Class was not to begin for ten minutes yet. Perhaps she was meeting someone? He had a strange desire to walk with her and find out.

Now Shirley, he warned himself. Now was not the time to be preoccupied with girls, no matter how sweet and pretty they are. He had decided to try for High Honors in Mathematics, maybe take on an extra course of two. Maybe if he buried himself in work, he would have less time for troubled thoughts. Maybe in Redmond, he could make something of himself. He might never be as remarkable as Walter but he might accomplish some things still. 

He brought out one of his schoolbooks. He could probably finish a page or two before class began. Inexplicably, his eyes slid off the page, towards the corner of the hallway, and his thoughts on his resolutions click-clacked along green-gold eyes on a cream white face and stacked heels. 

**2**

Faye forced herself to slow down. It wouldn't do to let the young man see her almost running down the hall. As Grandma Miriam would say, "Act like a lady, Faye."

She breathed a sigh of relief as she rounded the corner, feeling very grateful that the hall was empty.

_You were daydreaming again. Oh, when will you learn?_  Faye berated herself with a sigh. She really was trying harder to cure herself of dreaminess but at times it felt like an impossible task. 

She had been imagining herself as a brave soldier, perhaps a Spanish conquistador, exploring the New World. For Redmond did feel like a different world to Faye, who was used to quiet afternoons with her governess in a cavernous mansion. Now she was actually in a college campus, with its clusters of red brick buildings, neat concrete walkways criss-crossing occasional squares of greenery and crowds of students of every description, congregating, chattering and laughing.  

It was very exciting for Faye, who looked at any new experience with wide-eyed fascination, but it also made her very nervous. She was unused to large crowds. Back at Opal Crest, it had been only her, Grandma Miriam and the servants- Merry Estelle, Grim Sandoval the Butler and Juno of the Green Hills. She remembered that wide horizon of blue meeting green, the silences broken only by the wind blowing through grass and leaf- at one time, she had wanted to escape its solitude very badly but now she realized how much she missed its peace and quiet. 

You wanted this. You even fought Grandma Miriam for this. And you know this is what Mama wanted for you before she left. So don't you get scared now, thought Faye resolutely, as she stepped beyond the gates of Redmond, giving up the society of trees and the ambrosia of dreams for a world of lecterns, blackboards and cafeteria food.

Grandma said that she hoped that college would make a sensible woman out of her and Faye promised that she would try. She didn't know if she could really do it, though. She had clashed often with her stern, no-nonsense grandmother who saw the world in terms of wealth and worldly status– she couldn't understand a granddaughter who said that she would "trade a diamond for a star because its light was so much more beautiful". Sometimes when Grandma was especially exasperated with her, she would mutter that Faye must be one of the faery children- she didn't have enough sense to be a Starke. Faye thought that it must be her Irish blood- her father was Irish, after all.  At any rate, to be thought a faery child didn't bother her much- it seemed like such a romantic idea.  

Faye peeked at an empty classroom and felt a thrill and a chill at the thought that soon, she would be sitting there, listening to her learned professor lecture along with rows and rows of other students. What if she didn't like it? Or worse, what if they didn't like her? 

The thought made her so anxious that she escaped into Dream Tyme, that world of fancy that was her birthright. A sojourn at Dream Tyme always made her feel better, and never mind Grandma's warnings that only the mad listened to the whispers of the trees and believed in gnomes and dryads. So she imagined herself delivering a fair speech on the podium that would floor classmate and professor alike– she could never do that in real life but in Dream Tyme one can do anything- conquering their hearts and winning their admiration with her brilliance. That fancy suited her and she had been so caught up in her reverie that she had almost bumped into that boy. 

Not that the encounter had been an unwelcome interruption. She peeked stealthily around the corner.

He was still there, leaning on the wall with a book in his arms. She didn't dream him up. 

Faye hugged her book tightly to her chest. Her cheeks felt hot. She wondered if he thought her so very silly, walking with her head in the clouds.

Whatever he thought of her, Faye knew what she thought of him. She liked him- liked his looks and his gentlemanly ways so much that she had an another attack of shyness and left precipitately. Such delicious dark brown hair! And his eyes were such a clear coffee brown- so clear that she could see herself reflected in their brown depths. There was something so soothing about those eyes. 

"There you go dreaming again," Faye said aloud. Likely, the boy had a sweetheart. And she didn't even know his name or anything about him.

Alma Ashton would have known. If something like this had happened to her, she would know all about the young man in a twinkling. Likely, she would have stayed to chat even if she had nothing more exciting to talk about than the weather. There wasn't a particle of shyness in Alma, especially when it came to boys. 

_Here it is- Room 112, Edmund, World Literature._ She was too early and the lecture room was empty. She took a seat at the back corner, where she had a good view of the entire room. 

While she waited, Faye flipped open her brand new sketchbook- her Dream Book, as she liked to call it. Her fingers stroked the blank pages lovingly- there was something so magical about a clean, new page– you never knew what interesting experience would fill these pages. 

She had packed the first few pages with drawings of her journey from Europe- charcoal sketches of the sleek gray ship with all its passengers. Then a series of crayons of the sea in all its moods, from a placid silver-blue mirror on calm mornings, to a slate gray with little waves like curling hills that rose and fell. Then there was the train ride to Kingsport- she sketched in the intimate dining car where she had her delicious breakfast of pancakes and eggs and glimpses of the different stops seen from the train windows. 

But she liked the last few pages best. Here were the sketches of the pretty little glade behind the Ashton Place, where she was staying while she studied at Redmond. She had only been in Kingsport for three days but she was already very intimate with that wilderness of flowers and trees. 

Faye sighed. She loved that little wild place- it almost seemed like something stolen out of her Dream Tyme- but she had hoped to gain more human friendships here in Redmond. Ever since her mother died and her dearest chum Gwen had been sent to boarding school, she had felt very lonely, and even Dream Tyme could not cure that completely. Faye often thought that Opal Crest was a very splendid place- if only it had more people it would be quite perfect. 

Juno was certainly very kind to her, in his grandfatherly way. The old gardener knew more about plants and growing things than anyone in the world. Faye believed that he was of the race 'that had the strength of the earth in his bones and its primordial fire in his veins'. 

And there was Grandma Miriam, who was always watching over her, like a hawk watching a chick to make sure that it didn't misbehave. With all her strictness and her rules, she was not exactly someone a girl could share confidences with. Faye did not doubt that Grandma loved her, in her old-fashioned way, but it had been to get away from that stifling love, as much as for education's sake, that had convinced her to come to Canada. Her cousin Daniel had suggested Redmond- before the War, his older brother had studied medicine there.

Faye wished that Daniel could come to visit but she knew that he had his own troubles, what with his mother sick and his older brother yet to recover from injuries after the War. His letters were all she had for now, and while they were warm and wonderful despite his troubles, they couldn't entirely satisfy. One wanted an intimate friend- girls her own age that she could laugh and whisper secrets with late at night. 

When Daniel had first written that the Mrs. Ashton had a fifteen-year-old daughter, she had cherished hopes that perhaps they could be chums. Now that she had met Alma, Faye was not so sure. She wanted to like her- they were living in the same house after all and a friendship would have been such a comfortable thing. But the eldest Ashton was always surrounded by a gaggle of friends, chattering about fashions, parties and beaux, something that Faye knew little about. 

A part of her did want to know. What was the secret that made someone so fascinating? How did one become one of those butterfly creatures like Alma, always merry, always in the know, always surrounded by people? 

How she longed to be even a wee bit like her! To be someone popular, beloved and admired by hosts.  

But she was not. She was just wallflower Faye, with a head full of dreams. 

Faye looked out the window, where students gathered in small groups here and there. She tried to picture herself in one of them. Perhaps, some day…

She sat back in her seat, that lonely feeling ebbing a little, appeased by daydreams for now. Her pencil scribbled, rough sketches of interesting faces she had seen in her walk at Redmond. One seemed to grow alive under a skillful hand and fond remembrance.

Faye shaded in rosy cheeks and clear brown eyes, a dreamy smile on her face.


	4. A Quiet Place

Chapter 4: A Quiet Place 

**1**

Faye was quietly reading on her window seat, her book on Latin grammar open on her lap, but she was actually a million miles away, reveling in the pretty cloudscapes outside her window.

She was brought back to earth by the banging of her bedroom door. Alma was standing there, her hair freshly curled and her face made up. 

"Faye darling," she gushed in that effusive way of hers. "I'm going out for a picnic with my friends. Could I borrow that lovely hunter green coat of yours?"

"It's in my closet," Faye answered, her grammar book shut. She knew from experience that one couldn't get any reading done when Alma was around- one needed quiet for that and Alma always chattered enough for two. She watched as Alma pulled the coat out of the closet. Grinning and holding it up in front of her, she posed by the mirror at the vanity table. 

"It looks wonderful on you," said Faye shyly as she watched Alma preen. In the past few days, an intimacy of sorts had grown between the two girls- not friendship exactly for Alma was too caught up in her own affairs and Faye too shy yet to confide in her, but Alma had gotten into the habit of visiting Faye for a bit of gay chatter, or more often, to complaint of various trifling dilemmas, which to her, was always a crisis. In Faye, Alma found a willing and sympathetic ear so she tolerated the older girl's company despite her deficiencies in gossip and her lack of knowledge about the fashionable society of Kingsport.  

"Doesn't it?" Alma's smile grew wider as she surveyed her reflection with growing satisfaction. "This shade of green looks just right with my hair, doesn't it?"

Faye nodded in agreement.

"And green is Brent's favorite color, you know," she said significantly. "I wouldn't be surprised if he asks me to be his escort at the Redmond dance after today." She trailed off with an expectant air, as if waiting for Faye to comment. 

Faye just stared at Alma quizzically. 

"Oh, you are hopeless," complained Alma, rolling her eyes. She hesitated but the need to brag won out. "Brent Carson is only the handsomest boy in the sophomore class in Redmond. He has the loveliest golden curls and blue eyes. And," by way of producing the icing on the cake "He's fabulously wealth and drives the sweetest cherry-red car," she sighed, sinking into Faye's bed dreamily.

Privately, Faye wondered if Mrs. Ashton would approve of Alma's infatuation with a Redmond boy. "Isn't he a little too old for you?" Faye asked timidly. 

Alma waved a hand dismissively. "I suppose for most girls in my class, he would be. Jane Peters is mad about Brent but the _child_ couldn't have the handling of him... she's just like a little moon-eyed calf. There isn't a bit of charm about her- no cunning feminine wile at all. But I've always been more mature than other girls my age, don't you think?"

Well, she certainly was bolder than Faye could ever dare to be, and she did know more about boys and romance. Still…

Before she could caution Alma, the blaring of a car horn interrupted her.

"Oh Brent's here! Do I really look alright?" Alma took a frantic glance at the mirror, fluffed her curls and smoothed her dress. Satisfied with her appearance, she rushed out of the bedroom with a parting entreaty, "Now you won't tell Mother about Brent, would you? She would throw a fit if she found out that a Redmond boy was interested in me. She is so old-fashioned- she thinks I shouldn't be bothering with boys just yet because I need to concentrate on my education. Did you ever hear of anything so boring and backward? Boys before books, that's my motto. Now you won't tell?"

Alma rushed out the door with a gushing, "Ta-ta darling! Maybe later we'll have a nice gabfest."

Faye stared curiously out the window, where a red car was parked by the gate. An attractive blond boy- that must be Brent, Faye thought- climbed out of the car with a confident swagger. She saw Alma rush out the front door in Faye's green coat, her curls bouncing jauntily as she met him at the gate. Alma looked back with a slightly apprehensive expression as she let herself out but after seeing Faye's face at the window, her expression turned a trifle smug and she gave a coy little wave before turning all her charms on the beloved Brent.  

She turned away from the window, a restless, discontented feeling fluttering in her chest. Not that she envied Alma her beau but she wondered what it was like to have a love. Someone to walk with on twilight nights, escort you to dances and take you for a drive around town on a cherry-red car.  

Faye put away her Latin grammar. Maybe a walk around the house would banish that tiny pang of envy- envy was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world and she was not going to give into it. She had a half-hour before her Latin class- enough time to have a delicious banana-nut muffin that was Cook's specialty. Good food was always a balm for wounded spirit.     

As she made her way to the kitchen, she heard the faint strains of piano music. It was time for May's weekly music lessons.

Faye paused to listen- she loved piano music. Back at Opal Crest, one of their most cherished rituals was to play the piano in the evening, with Faye's chirping voice and her mother's strong womanly one accompanying the mellow tones of the organ. And she was always interested in the children's doings- Aaron and Grace were such dears and she loved to hear about their goings-on at dinnertime, whenever they could get a word in edgewise.  

The melody grew louder as she drew closer to the music room. The notes seemed slightly discordant to Faye's sensitive ear, as if the player didn't really want to be there at all. 

"Now, Miss Ashton," Mr. Carroll, the piano instructor, tapped the piano sternly. "You have not been practicing. Begin the exercise again please."

The door was ajar and Faye had intended to ask the children if she might join them for a few minutes but she stopped when she realized that the new governess was with them. The two of them had not yet met, for she was usually gone before Faye returned from her classes in Redmond. She knew that her name was Diana Blythe and that Alma did not like her- Faye was not sure if that boded well or not. 

Faye took a quick peek of the scene before her. May pouted at the piano bench, repeating the exercise with a disgruntled expression with Mr. Carroll hovering over her like a wizened gnome. Diana Blythe was attending to the two younger children, Aaron and Grace. She was surprised that Diana was only a few years older than herself - she thought that Mrs. Ashton would have chosen someone older and sterner, like Miss Pickford. Miss Blythe was pretty, with curly burnished red hair held back from her face by a black ribbon and a firm, rosy mouth. And she did seem to be getting along well with Aaron and Grace- they were seated in a corner piled with pillows, giggling away as Diana read from a storybook. The three of them made such a pretty picture- they seemed to belong together somehow. 

Faye backed away from the door, swallowing the greeting that was about to roll off her tongue. She could use a little cheerful society but she didn't want to interrupt their good time.    

She whisked herself into the kitchen and attacked a banana nut muffin from the basket at the countertop instead. Several times, she walked up to the music room door then retreated. Anyone watching would have thought her timid back-and-forth trip from kitchen to music room odd. But Faye had such a hard time with meeting people, let alone introducing herself to them. And what if this girl, like Alma, didn't like her?

By the time she had made up her mind to finally enter the lion's den, the clock had struck a quarter to two and she needed to leave for her Latin class. 

She swallowed a feeling of disappointment at the missed opportunity. Diana Blythe seemed jolly, someone Faye would like to get to know. If only she could conquer her shyness!

As she walked out the door to Redmond, she thought she heard the clatter of excited feet and the sound of childish voices- Aaron's piping voice, and Grace's quiet one. She wondered where they were going, what they would be doing. She supposed, like the other days, that she would have to wait until dinner to find out

**2**

There was quite a row in the house when Faye returned after her classes at Redmond.

Cook had prepared the usual afternoon snack for them- Faye made sure to thank her for keeping her slice of cherry pie warm. Aaron and Grace had gobbled theirs up more than an hour ago, but May lingered over her plate, eating in her slow, dainty way.  

"Alma's quite upset- I think she and Mother argued about something. Mother called Alma into her study a little while ago and then she ran out and locked herself in her bedroom," was May's answer to Faye's disturbed inquiry. "I think it had something to do with Alma's beau. Brent Carson? He's quite handsome, isn't he? But I guess Mother doesn't like him- she had such a frown on her face when she called Alma- and she had just got home from the picnic and was simply _euphoric_ over it." 

"So how is Alma?" asked Faye, not surprised at this turn of events but nonetheless, feeling sympathetic towards Alma. She agreed with Mrs. Ashton- Alma was rather young to be keeping company with Redmond boys. She was barely fourteen, after all. Still, she could imagine how broken-hearted Alma must be, remembering how excited she had been to be with Brent. 

"She's been crying in her room ever since. She's in a real foul mood- I tried to talk to her but she just told me leave her alone. Best keep away from her," warned May as she left the kitchen.

"I'll keep that in mind," responded Faye as she bit into her slice of pie. 

They were having dinner early, on account of a meeting Mrs. Ashton was to attend later in the evening. Alma, though called repeatedly, refused to come down to dinner, much to Mrs. Ashton's frustration. Dinner was a tense silent affair, despite periodic attempts of a tight-lipped Mrs. Ashton at conversation. 

"I do not want to see that boy near Alma," Mrs. Ashton told Miss Pickford in parting. "You will see to it that Alma no longer keeps company with that boy. And no telephone calls either."

Miss Pickford nodded and Mrs. Ashton sailed away resolutely.

As Faye passed by Alma's door on the way to her room, she heard Alma's loud sobbing. Faye could never refuse a plea of tears– shy and dreamy though she was, meek heart and absent mind could always be overcome by her compassionate spirit. – perhaps now, it was time that Faye offered her a shoulder to lean on.    

With a feeling of trepidation, she knocked on Alma's door.  "Alma? May I come in?" she asked softly. 

There was no reply but a series of sniffles. 

Faye stepped into the room hesitantly. The room was rather dark for the drapes were drawn, the last of the sunset light had faded and only the small rose-shaded lamp on Alma's night table was on. She saw her coat, crumpled and abandoned in one corner of the room. Alma sat on the bed with red eyes and cheeks but her mouth was drawn in an angry scowl.       

Alma gave Faye's presence no more acknowledgement than a flood of angry words, interspersed with sniffles. "Mother is _perfectly hateful_. She told me that I wasn't to see or talk to Brent any more. Isn't this just a _tragic_ turn of events? She just doesn't understand how I feel about Brent… how much _in love_ we are. He is so wonderful and we are _just perfect_ for each other. Brent is so _killing and fascinating_- the other boys are just _crude and boorish_, but he is just so sophisticated. And he paid me such a pretty compliment on our way to the picnic… so _poetic_, you know… he said my eyes were like _pools of allurement_ and my lips like the _bloom of a rose_. Oh, I just can't bear the thought that I would never be allowed the see him again! "

Despite her very real sympathy for Alma, Faye couldn't help feeling that Alma was being just a trifle dramatic- there was no lack of italics in that torrent of words. But, she reproached herself, Alma_ was _very hurt- Faye was sure she was genuinely heartbroken- and a girl did need a vent for her emotions.  She knelt by Alma's bed and handed her a handkerchief.

Alma dabbed at her eyes and continued, "And the other girls were just _dying with envy_ when they heard that Brent was interested in me. When we drove up to the picnic in his beautiful car, the girls were just about _green_. Oh the look in Aline Roberts face… she's such a _jealous puss_… and the dress she wore was so _ugly_, that shade of brown just made her skin look so _yellow_, you know? 

But I digress… Mother has to make such a fuss about my going with an older boy. He's not so much older than I am- Brent is only nineteen." 

"And he doesn't mind going out with someone… slightly younger?" asked Faye.

"Not if he thinks I'm eighteen," Alma answered, her eyes flicking downwards in spite of herself. 

"You lied about your age?" asked Faye, her eyes widening.

"Of course, you silly girl! He would never look at me otherwise," snapped Alma defensively. "And I'm just as pretty…just as _sophisticated_… as any Redmond girl.

"Well… I don't know if it's right of you to deceive Brent like that," reproved Faye slowly. She felt a queer feeling of disappointment, though at what she couldn't quite identify. 

"Oh, what do you know about true love? And boys? They're not exactly lining up at your doorstep," snapped Alma, guilt sparking a spiteful light in her eyes. How dare Faye disapprove of her! "What right have you to be giving me love advice? I bet you've never had a single beau in your life!"

Faye drew back in shock at this painful slap. "Oh, I didn't come here to give you love advice. I only wanted to see how you were getting on and…"

"You have some nerve, barging in here and giving me a lecture on how to handle my love affairs," continued Alma, trampling over Faye's words. "First, its none of your business. And second, I think you'd better work on yourself before you start in on me," she remarked sneeringly, her eyes filled with scorn.  

Alma stood up, on a roll now and happy to have finally found someone to vent her anger on. There was always some satisfaction to be had in an argument even if it was with a shy mouse. "You're certainly in no position to give me advice, locked up in that loony dream world of yours. You're as shy, as dull and as awkward as the ugly duckling. You've always got your head buried in some book or scribbling away at that pad of yours. You haven't the least idea how to flirt or how to pique a boy's interest- you can't even manage a proper conversation. Why I bet that no boy has ever even looked at you!"

Faye bit her lip, trying to tamp down a wave of hurt and surprisingly a spark of anger, as Alma towered over her with flashing eyes. What _was_ she saying now?

"In fact…" Alma said slowly. "I bet you're jealous of me. That I've got a beau and you don't," She glared at Faye, "In fact… I bet you're the one who told Mother about Brent and me. You pretend to be all nice as if you were alright with it but secretly, you were plotting against us!" 

"Enough Alma," said Faye. Her tone was quiet, but there was a note to it that gave Alma pause. Her green-gold eyes too, seemed to reflect a simmering heat that Alma had never seen before. They bore into Alma's eyes with a flame that made Alma pale. She swallowed her words in a hurry. 

Faye stood up, her chest fluttering from rapid breaths and her fisted hands trembling as she faced Alma, who was silent at last. "I came here because I thought you were hurt and I wanted to make you feel better. Silly me… _foolish_ me, but I thought you needed a friend to sympathize with you. But I guess what you _really_ needed was a scratching post because you just got your claws clipped by your mother. Well, I am so glad to be of help to you, Alma."

Faye walked away with a shuddering breath, her anger not yet spent. But she paused at the door and said in a quiet tone, more sad than angry, "Oh, and thank you for telling me what you really thought of me. I thought we could be friends. I'm glad you've freed me from that delusion." 

Without waiting for Alma's reply, she walked off.

Faye rushed to her room, picking up her Dream book and a few other books on her table, then down the stairs like a fleet spirit. She could barely feel the steps below her as she ran out the door, into the cool, sweet air of the meadow as it opened up to her. It fanned her hot cheeks as she tripped blindly down the twisted path to that little glade that she loved.

She dropped her books at the pool's edge and sat down at its banks. She stared at her reflection. At her red cheeks, her trembling lips, her green-gold eyes filled with tears. 

A tear drop fell into the pond's calm, smooth surface, breaking her reflection into tiny, blurring and finally, indistinguishable pieces.

Her anger was spent now. It had always been like a sleeping dragon- elusive, but sharp and cutting when finally roused. It flared with white-hot heat for just a moment and then died down, always leaving her surprised and shaken in its wake.  

Why was she crying? 

Surely, she wasn't in the wrong… she would never do anything to deliberately hurt Alma. She _had_ wished them both well. She would never do anything to sabotage Alma's affairs, whatever she inwardly thought of it. The thought had never even crossed her mind, it was so foreign to her honest nature. 

Faye thought of the accusations Alma had thrown at a friend with such ease- did Alma really think she could do it? But Alma had always judged others as she did herself– she assumed that all would think as she thought, and do as she did.  

But if everything she said was false, then why did Alma's words hurt so much?

Because in Alma's long and spiteful ramble, she had also spoken the truth, and that hurt more than any false accusation she made. 

Faye knew that she was too quiet and too dreamy- hadn't Grandma Miriam said it often enough? No boy had ever been interested in her- that was true. She had never had a beau- also true.  But until now, she didn't really care. 

When she was younger, there was always Opal Crest- and Mother. Beautiful, merry, tenderhearted Mother- studying, playing, traveling, and just _living_ life with her, and dear Gwen and Juno, had been enough to satisfy her girlhood. Oh, she had her tender fancies, of her knight in shining armor, but there was never anything she had wanted to be rescued from. Until Mother died and Gwen enrolled in boarding school, she had never given it more than passing attention. 

It was only now that she was noticing them– they were everywhere, it seemed.  And Faye couldn't deny that she did dream and long to have someone to love, someone to walk with her down the lonely pathways of life.   

But Alma's world seemed to revolve around them in ways that Faye found appalling. There was a never-ending round of boys she was interested in– she watched them like a wolf lying in wait for dinner, or a hunter waiting to bring home a prized piece of meat. She was always tallying things, as if love were game to be won. How many parties was she to attend this week? Who would be there? Anyone handsome or rich? And then after- what did everyone wear? Who danced with whom, and how many times? 

Faye had always thought that young love should be a thing of innocence and romance.  But to Alma, it was just a part of some game to win status for herself, made up of meticulous points of dress and reputation.  

And Faye had played along- listening to her witticisms, giggling at her silly, judgmental commentaries. No, she had to be honest with herself… she did more than play along. She had wanted to be part of it. It was a horrifying thought- that a part of her had actually wanted to romp, to be a gossip, to think and talk of nothing but boys. That was why she had tried so hard to like and to be liked by Alma- because a part of her had been envious. She actually wished to be more like Alma. 

Faye wiped her eyes, feeling small and foolish. How could she have failed to see how shallow Alma's character was? Looking back it seemed almost ludicrous how she had failed to notice Alma's pettiness- her conversation filled with spiteful not-so-subtle snubs and put-downs of the many others who did not meet her approval, who were jealous of her, or just plain beneath her – little barbs that stung. She had tried to ignore their warning and for that received a well-deserved raking. 

Their whole conversation was so disillusioning- Just thinking about how she had admired Alma made her want to give herself a dunking in the pool. Surely there were other people she could pattern herself after, now that she had learned to tell the gold from the tinsel. People who would accept her, dreamy and bookish and well… dull as she was. 

Faye sniffled and reached into her pocket for her handkerchief. Where was it? Oh, she had given it to Alma. Well, she wasn't going back there anytime soon! She looked at the books that were scattered about her- there was "The Song of Roland" but she wasn't in the mood to read about knights and chivalry. Then there was her Mathematics book, where she was supposed to work on her algebraic equations. But in her present mood, she didn't feel quite fit enough to wrestle with sums just yet. And there was that self-portrait she was supposed to finish for her Art class but a confused state of mind was not exactly conducive to creating a work of art.   

She drew up her knees and rested her chin on them thoughtfully as she looked up at the tapestry of stars. Now that it was over, she felt oddly grateful for this encounter and never mind if she felt as if she had been hit upside the head. It was a painful slap but it turned her in the right direction. 

But she still wasn't so sure what she was facing, or what it was that she truly wanted. 

**3**

Shirley walked down the twisted path, his Economics book tucked under his arm. For the past two hours, his mind had been filled with figures and refractory numbers. Now he wanted to enjoy the serenity of this moonlit walk, with the stars blinking and twinkling from the deepening curtain of night, before he attended his study group for his Honors class. 

He breathed deep the cool night air and listened to the rustling of wild grass. Up ahead was that friendly clearing, enclosed by blueberry and rose bushes and a little pool with its clear, still surface covered with lotus. He liked to come to this spot to rest and read- a quiet place of solitude, where the bustle of the world seemed to disappear.  Cutting by Wild Magnolias was such a pleasant walk, it was so much cooler, quicker and quieter than going by the road. After this clearing, he would walk off the little path out of Wild Magnolias to his rented room on Spencer Street.

As he neared the clearing, Shirley heard an odd scritch-scratching sound. It started, then stopped abruptly, then would begin again at a furious pace. He assumed that it was an insect, part of the panoply of nature's music. 

When he realized that someone else was there, he instinctively moved behind a slender birch, to where he would not be seen. It was a girl, sitting so close to the edge of the pond that her white feet dipped into the clear water. She sat crouched over a sketch pad- it was her pencil making that sound. 

He drew silently closer, hoping not to disturb her. She was scribbling furiously then stopped with an expression of immense dissatisfaction. A scowl crossed her pretty face- it seemed somehow foreign to her delicate features. There was something familiar about her, her silver-blond hair…

He watched her as she began again. Scritch-scratch went the slender pencil. Then her scribbling slowed down and then stopped. There were a few moments of silence before she ripped the page up with a violent wrench. 

"Why can't I draw anything good? These are terrible! And amateurish and… no, what they are…is dull and awkward," She bit off the words with a mixture of frustration and anger. Then she lay down on the grass, as if exhausted, "Maybe I should just draw the Ugly Duckling for my self-portrait."

She sat back up, glaring at the page before her and then crumpled it up with a certain amount of satisfaction. She tossed it aside almost contemptuously. Then she sat, cross-legged and still, staring at the page with a disconsolate attitude. 

Caught by the wind, the crumpled ball of paper tossed and rolled, getting caught in the brambles by Shirley's feet. He didn't know why he reached out and picked it up, but he did. 

He glanced at her surreptitiously. She had her chin on her knees and was absently tossing pebbles in the pond.

He smoothed the crumpled page carefully. It was filled with vague sketches, half-drawn lines and unfinished figures. He recognized half-drawn trees, birds' nests, a profusion of flowers floating about as if adopted and then suddenly abandoned by a chance wind. The whole page seemed strangely off-kilter, disordered as if something had shaken the tranquility of the natural order of things and resulted in this curious chaos.

The girl sighed, still frowning, her pencil hanging limply from her white hand. Shirley decided that he should probably go- the girl was obviously having what Mother called a 'Jonah day'- and that seemed to turn even the gentlest of girls into ogres. 

Unfortunately, he did not make good of his escape for as he turned to go, he stepped on a twig, which gave way with a large crack under his foot.

The girl looked up, alarmed, and Shirley showed himself sheepishly, lest he frighten her further.

He found himself staring at her large eyes- a spring green, flecked with gold. 

"It's you!" Both exclaimed in unison.

Shirley smiled, feeling a bit abashed. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I was just about to leave... I don't want to distract you if you're busy."

She answered with a flurry of flustered words, "Oh, not at all. I wasn't doing anything really… stay if you like." Unconsciously, she picked up her sketchbook and hugged it to her chest protectively. There was something oddly childlike about that gesture that brought out a brotherly feeling of affection towards her. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting the Muses," commented Shirley as he sat down companionably on the grass. Other books were scattered about her, including a well-worn mathematics book with pieces of paper, scribbled all over with numbers, tucked between the leaves. 

"Oh no, she seems to have run away of her own accord," the girl grinned ruefully. "I'm afraid she's gone on holiday until I can give her the proper dose of moonshine and romance that she craves. Can't live with all the sums and mathematical formulae that my professor keeps feeding me." Then her eyes slid over to the Economics book that Shirley dropped on the grass, and her pale face colored prettily, "Oh, I'm sorry… I didn't mean… that is, I guess I'm not very good at sums. They aren't fond of me."

"The three most common things people are allergic to- dust, pollen and mathematics," Shirley said teasingly, as he held up her well-worn Mathematics book, so different from the neat sketchpad or the handsome leather bound book she also brought. 

"I guess I have mistreated it. I've tossed it about the room a few times when I was especially frustrated," admitted Faye with a guilty smile, her eyes twinkling as she tried in vain to smooth the hopelessly wrinkled cover. "Just a small measure of revenge when I've worked my pencil to a stubble trying to solve those math problems. I guess it's not one of my talents."

"It's all right. I couldn't draw more than stick figures myself. That's why I always suggest we play Charades during parties," joked Shirley, feeling inordinately glad to see her smile. "It must be wonderful to have such a talent. Are you on your way to becoming the next Da Vinci?"

"Oh no." She shook her head vehemently. "I could only dream of becoming an artistic genius. Mine is really just a childish passion." She picked up a blade of grass and flicked it at a lantern bug by her feet. "I suppose my muse is just a silly little pixie, compared to the great Greek goddesses of old."

"But muses are very rare, magical creatures. You're lucky to have one," Shirley remarked wistfully. 

"Say rather that they are fickle, capricious creatures. They seem to take great delight in inspiring you and then leaving in the most trying times. But I suppose it's because I feel abandoned right now. I have a drawing assignment due tomorrow…" she wrinkled her little white nose and pouted, but more in impatience now than real anger. "… and nothing I drew so far came out right. I was hoping a beautiful night likes this might tempt my Muse to return but so far…" She tapped her pencil at the empty page. "…no luck."

"Are you an Art major at Redmond?" asked Shirley, hoping that a little cheerful conversation would keep her mind off her troubles.

She nodded. "Art and Literature. We're studying Medieval Literature right now."

Shirley's eyes picked up the leather volume near him. The Song of Roland was written in fancy script. "Is this what you're reading right now?"

"Yes, but I've actually read it more than a dozen times before. It's one of my favorites," she murmured, her eyes glowing. "My mother used to read it to me when I was a child. And the first time we visited France, I kept insisting that she introduce me to some of the French knights in the story. I used to imagine how majestic they would look with the sun shining on their helms and long swords. And how heroic they were as they battled the pagan army."

Unbidden, an image came to Shirley- of broken bodies and gunfire. "You have been to France before?"

"I love it there!" she exclaimed with a wide, dimpled smile. "There are no other people in the world with the spirit of the French, I think. Mother and I visited often in the summer when I was young. Have you ever been there?"

Shirley nodded, "I've seen it, but perhaps not in the same way."

Her smooth brow furrowed. She seemed to sense the change in Shirley's mood and was disturbed by it. "What way do you mean?"

"I flew over it. Many times… during the War," he said softly. His brown eyes slid away from her glowing green ones, towards the clear water of the pond, which reflected the inky blackness of the night sky.

"Oh." There was something so sympathetic in that one word, one syllable, that Shirley almost felt himself drawn away from those black thoughts, black memories. 

She drew closer to him, as if she wanted to shield him from the hurt. As if she understood instinctively the darkness of his thoughts, she offered with touching simplicity, "Would you like to hear about my France? The France of my childhood memories?"

Something kindled in his brown eyes. "I would love to hear about your France. A France seen from the eyes of a young child."

A France of peace, both thought, though none spoke the words.  

She began to speak, slowly at first then gradually carried by the stream of her memories, her voice grew more animated. She spoke of lively cityscapes of Paris, gay French cafes and outrageous French fashions. She spoke of the Louvre, of the galleries holding the treasures of France, precious works of art by the Masters. 

Shirley found himself entranced, first by her words and the images they evoked, but gradually he found himself watching more the play of moods across her face, the rising colour in her cheeks, the gleam of her eyes, the way her hands fluttered in the air like pale birds.

He might have stayed listening to her forever if his pocket watch had not struck. Shirley realized with some surprise that they had been talking for nearly half an hour, and he should be at his study group right now, discussing prices and recessions.

"I don't mean to keep you if you've somewhere to go," she said in that dear, tentative, half-shy ways of hers. But as they said their reluctant goodbyes, she reached for his hand very gently and said in a tender tone, "It is a terrible thing to go to war. I haven't father or brother, but someone very dear to me was also a soldier in France. No one has returned unchanged, people and places both. No one expects that to be.

"I haven't returned to France since I was young, but I know if I laid eyes on it now, it will be even more beautiful than the France I remember. In my heart, France was beautiful because I was carefree and young- it couldn't help but be wonderful for me.  But now I'll look at it with eyes that have known the sorrow and pain that was endured to defend it. If there is violence and grief in war, hand-in-hand is real love and self-sacrifice and that has given even the wreck and ruin a beauty and meaning beyond its physical form. It is that _spirit_ that drove you that matters- and that spirit will live on, but only if we can find strength to remember it. It is never pleasant or easy, but it is the burden that all of us must share who have lived through it."

Shirley nodded, transfixed on hands that were so small and white, that held with such a sure and gentle grip and marveling at how one could find the wizened countenance of truth behind such a childlike face. He was never a man of many words but the look he gave her was enough.

Shirley knew he had to leave but she had done so much for him, that he thought he would do her a favor in return, small as it was. He hoped it would make her laugh- he thought he would like to hear her laugh. 

Shirley knelt beside her. "May I?" he asked, and she handed him her pencil with a puzzled look. He scribbled something on a crumpled piece of paper he dug from his pocket and then handed it to her with a warm smile. "Here- maybe this will tempt your muse. So you can finish your self-portrait," he said, his rosy cheeks red.  "I really have to go now," he said as he walked out of that glade.  

"Goodbye!" she called out, picking the folded piece of paper from her lap and looking both puzzled and intrigued. 

Shirley left in a hurry but his steps were slow. He was waiting for something. 

Then he heard it. It reminded him of a peal of silver bells and the music of a rippling stream. He was right- she did have a lovely laugh. 

**4**

Faye watched him leave with her heart still dancing that strange little beat. 

It was a little sketch. A wiggly moon rose in one corner. Wavy lines, labeled moonshine in case she wasn't able to identify it, radiated outwards. Stick figures of a boy and girl grinned at her surrounded by a field of hearts, flowers and rainbows. Written below the comical doodle were the words: 

To my dear pixie muse, I appeal to your conscience… please come back and help me become a better artist than this! 

Faye laughed as her eyes traveled over the wriggly lines and clumsy figures without regard for perspective or proportion. He was right- he was no artist.  But it was such a dear, funny little drawing all the same.  

She turned over the paper and was surprised to find that it was actually a page from her Dream book…the page she ripped out. The inevitable comparison was that even in her worst days, her sketches were worlds above this droll picture. But she loved it all the more for its lack of skill- there was such a refreshing unpretentiousness to it, the real self-forgetfulness that comes with giving.      

Faye thought of the boy- her brown boy, and the Great War- what terrible things he must have seen! She knew she had only been lightly touched by the War- her father had died long ago, and with him, the brothers and sisters she would never have. But there was Daniel, who had come into her life with the dancing step of a wanderer. Daniel, who had braved the lion's den by befriending her, against Grandma's wishes. Who brought an unexpected light to a lonely girl, bringing news of a family she did not know she had, an ocean away. How could she have forgotten the long hours of anxious waiting, restless nights of watching and praying for a cousin newly come to her life, who was dear to her as a brother? 

It just seemed so funny now that she could have been so upset over a few things Alma said. Alma, who lived in an endless whirl of parties and dances. Alma, who in her narrow little world, could not conceive of sorrows greater than her own, much less understand them. Maybe Alma was right, and she knew nothing about fashionable society….but Faye could live for greater things. 

Faye tucked the paper into her Dream book before turning to a fresh page. She sketched in two figures sitting in the grass, amidst the panorama of the night sky, a happy song humming in her heart.


	5. An Unexpected Play

Chapter 5: An Unexpected Play 

**1**

Down at the end of Nightingale Lane, the fall morning dawned gently in her gold and saffron dress, draping its gentle folds over the little yellow cottage that was the Bower. Sunshine streamed in by the yellow muslin curtain, lighting up the kitchen table where the Blythe twins were having their breakfast with early morning cheer. The four girls usually had breakfast together- Una's cooking and girlish chatter, Persis said, were as good a buffer for the trials of the day as you could get anywhere but today, Una had left for Redmond to study for an exam and Persis was still asleep, her freshly written article still scattered on her desk. 

Di loved it when they were all together but sometimes, she liked having Nan all to herself too. Since their Redmond days, she enjoyed having this time to talk things over with her twin before setting out for the day. Today's topic was the Faye and the Ashtons'. 

"She seems like such a sweet girl. I'd really like to get to know her," said Di, as she and Nan ate breakfast. "Aaron and I see her often, sketching out in the Wilds and once, I saw her peeking at us while May was having her music lesson. I think she's a little lonely."

"Oh Di, there you go again, you softhearted duck," Nan said affectionately. "Anytime you meet someone with a tragic past, you want to adopt them."

Di smiled back good-naturedly, as she picked at the remains of her omelet.  "Well, I did hear from Alma that both her mother and father died years ago. It must be hard for her to come all this way without friends or family. Somehow, I doubt that she and Alma are getting along very well." 

"From what you've told me of Alma, I'm surprised she hasn't eaten Faye alive. What is she like, anyhow?" Nan asked curiously as she chewed the last of her toast.

"I can't say I really know. I haven't spoken to her yet- she's a shy little thing. Aaron and I call her dryad and really, she has such a delicate, pixie look about her. She's so petite, with this lovely, silver-gold hair up to her waist," said Diana, absently playing with a red-gold curl before she stopped herself with a dissatisfied frown. "I wanted to invite her for a Wild Magnolias frolic but she left before I could talk to her. I think she really wanted to come with us. I'd like her to, anyhow." 

"Well, I'm sure you're paths will cross again soon. From the way you described it, Wild Magnolias must look like a dream, wreathed in the golds and scarlets of fall– though trees are gorgeous whatever their season's dress. I don't see her anyone could resist a revel in that, Redmond classes or no," said Nan, who loved nature quite passionately.

"Seeing Wild Magnolias and Aaron are the best parts of my day. Grace is very sweet but Aaron is one of the Race that knows Joseph," said Di. 

"I would love to I'd love to meet Aaron- he seems precious." said Nan, as she stood up to clear the table. "Although my own students are pretty nice. Jacob Lowe even gave me a bouquet of wild roses on my walk home." 

"I'm sure they all adore you," said Di with unenvious admiration. 

After washing the dishes, she joined Nan at the looking glass for a last minute prink before they left for work. Both of them were in pretty print dresses– Nan in blue and Di in green. People seldom realized that they were twins, for they were dissimilar in both looks and ways. 

Nan with her silky brown hair and long-lashed hazel brown eyes, her refined manners and a romantic, fanciful way of looking at life, was always weaving dreams and draping everyone and everything within with the rose and silver folds of fancy. A willowy maiden with a queenly air about her, Nan was by turns thoughtful and dreamy or blithe and merry but always with that indefinable, effervescent charm of grace. Nan's smile and cheerful conversation was often enough to brighten someone's day but nevertheless, she had a temper and was prone to hold grudges. She was quick to remember wrongs but even quicker to remember kindnesses, which she always returned double-fold; for though sensitive and proud, Nan was ever tempered by a strong sense of justice and fair play.  

Nan could be rather particular, whether in matters of dress, in the arrangement of her room of in her choice of friends. She was the more reserved twin and slower to accept strangers into her circle, but once won over, no one could be more generous with affection and laughter, time and sympathy, than Nan. 

Di with red-gold curls and smoky gray-green eyes, her rich sense of humor and level-headed way of looking at life, was more forward than Nan, quicker to offer friendship but paradoxically, quieter and less prone to chatter. She preferred to listen rather than speak, though her quietness at these times should not be interpreted as dullness. She had a sharp mind and at times, a sharp tongue- for she could be blunt with her opinions when stung into speaking. She could also be rather stubborn- even Nan found it difficult to dissuade Di when she was decided. Di felt things deeply, though she was prone to hide it from anyone but her most intimate companions, for she could not speak of emotions easily or lightly. Her disposition was more azure than the rosy pinks of Nan, for she not light-hearted by nature, though a sense of the ridiculous and practical common sense often saved her from falling into despondency. 

But though she may seem entirely sensible at first, Di had a soft heart that was easy to gain entrance to, for she could never resist the call of the friendless and the lonely. Nowhere could you find a more staunch and loyal defender, or a more sincere and honest friend, than Di.

Still for all their differences, the twins were everything to each other, growing even closer in their years together at Redmond. They walked down the lane in silence, enjoying the peace and quiet of the cool, fall morning.  

"I do wish you'd come to visit soon. Aaron is looking forward to meeting you," Di said as they came to the crossroads. 

"I'll stop by as soon as I'm finished checking the children's English essays," promised Nan as they parted with a kiss. 

Diana walked to the Ashtons' with a resolute look on her face. She intended to make good of her promise to meet Faye- she had heard from May about the argument between Faye and Alma two days ago, and she wanted to set the record straight. It had been she who had informed Mrs. Ashton of Brent Carson that fateful day of the picnic. She knew of Brent from her Redmond days- he ran with a fast set. She would hate to see Alma hurt when his fancy veered- and it would inevitably, as soon as he found out that she was only fourteen.  

Di knocked at the door and hoped that Alma was done sulking- she had spent yesterday frowning like a lump and infected the entire house with her morose mood.

Miss Pickford opened the door in an even dourer mood than usual- Di guessed that Alma was still being difficult. 

"The eldest Ashton is running a bit late today. Unfortunately for our fashion plate, nothing goes well with a broken heart," said Miss Pickford. Di smiled sympathetically. 

Alma stomped down the stairs, her mouth set in a familiar sullen pout. She painted everyone with a baleful glare before stomping out the door, leaving Miss Pickford to scramble for her coat and run after her.

Aaron and Grace met her in much better moods.

"We're going on a picnic, we're going on a picnic!" sang Grace as she rushed up to Di for her morning kiss.

"We asked Mommy if we could have a picnic this afternoon and she said we could if we finish our lessons early," said Aaron, after he had delivered his hug. "You'll go with us, won't you Aunty Di? Cook even said she'll let us bake goodies for the picnic basket."

"Please, please?" said Grace, bouncing up and down. "It'll be our first real growed-up picnic!"

"Of course I'll go with you," responded Di, ruffling Grace's brown hair. "What about May, is she coming with us?"

Aaron hesitated and Di astutely read that there was trouble brewing between the Ashtons.

Di opened the door to the playroom as quietly as she could. May was sitting at the corner with slightly reddened eyes and tight-set lips. There was a book at her lap, but her efforts at pretending to read was not at all convincing.

Di asked her quietly what was wrong but May's answer was inaudible.

"Alma promised May that she would take her to the theater for a show and ice cream, but now Alma doesn't want to take her," announced Grace with childish frankness.

May looked up from her book with a furious glare. Grace squeaked and hid behind Di's skirt.

"I think Alma is going through some problems herself and perhaps she doesn't feel like going right now," said Diana.

May shrugged but Di could see that she was not placated.

Aaron and Grace sped through their lessons, too excited with their picnic to be much dampened by May's gloom. Cook served their light lunch early and both Aaron and Grace assisted in cleaning up the playroom. Through all this activity though, May remained listless and quiet. 

"I've left everything you need out in the counter," Cook said, pointing to ingredients and utensils neatly lined up along the kitchen counter. "You could help them make sandwiches and sugar cookies. I trust you know your way around the kitchen, Miss Blythe?"

"I've been Susan's most trusted kitchen aide since I was twelve," assured Di as she put on an apron. Cook nodded in satisfaction and left to do a little shopping.

Aaron had found a tall chef's hat and placed it squarely on his head, "Now I can be like real cook," he announced, never minding the fact that the hat was about two sizes too big and kept slipping over his eyes.

Di mixed the batter over the cookies while Aaron sprinkled nuts, raising and other 'good stuff' on it. Grace sat at a small table, humming happily by herself over a small mound of batter, which she was repeatedly molding into mishappen stars, dogs and cats. 

May sat by the corner, her fingers tap-dancing restlessly on the tabletop. Di racked her brains in an effort to include her, to help her forget her disappointment with Alma. Then she hit on a plan. 

Under guise of asking May to get picnic basket in the playroom, Diana whispered her plan to Aaron, whose eyes immediately widened with anticipation. 

"I suppose you'll stay in the library to read?" asked Di nonchalantly when May returned with the basket. 

"I guess so. You don't mind, do you?" May asked politely.

"Well, you're always welcome to join us later if you like," replied Di.

May shrugged and left the kitchen silently. Aaron looked at May leave, his big blue eyes sparkling with suppressed excitement. "Oh boy! She's going to be so surprised, won't she Aunty Di?" he whispered.

"I hope she will," responded Di, mixing the batter with renewed energy.

"What are you whispering about? I want to know too!" exclaimed Grace, leaving her little messes to join them.

"We are going to put up a play for May!" burst out Aaron. "We'll make up our very own version of 'The Princess of the Frost Kingdom' out at Wild Magnolias! That'll cheer her up for sure."

Grace clapped her hands in delight "Oh yes! May loves to watch shows…but…" Her smile trembled, and looking worried she said," I haven't seen it. I didn't go with you and Mommy. Can I still be in it?" pouted Grace.

"Of course! Aaron will explain it to you, darling. It's just like a fairy-tale, with princesses and witches," said Di.

"Yay!" Grace did a happy little dance before going back to her cookie batter.  

As they finished the cookies and made sandwiches for the picnic, the three happily planned out the afternoon's affair. Sally, the hired girl, was sent out to get the ice cream. Aaron and Grace settled down to work on an invitation for May in the playroom, with Aaron patiently re-telling the plot to Grace.  

"Now, Aaron is working on the invitation and the ice cream's on the way," muttered Diana, as she carefully packed the glasses and ice cream bowls in the kitchen. "Now the play's the thing."

Di had already seen 'The Princess of the Frost Kingdom' with Nan, Una and Persis last week and she could remember the story well enough. Aaron would play the heroic prince, while Grace would be perfect for the part of the mischievous fairy. Di thought that it would be fun to play the Wicked Sorceress. But they were missing the most important character of all- the Princess. Persis would make a wonderful Princess, but Di knew that she was busy working on another article today. Perhaps Sally would be willing to do it? But she did not exactly fit the part of the princess, being a little awkward and coarse-tongued. 

Di still wasn't sure what to do as she walked out of the kitchen with the packed picnic basket. As she passed the music room a strain of silky-soft music floated in the air, surprising Di. Was it May? Di knew that she was not fond of the piano and rarely practiced outside of her lessons.

Curious, Di opened the door quietly. It was Faye who sat at the piano, absorbed in her music. Her hair flowed down her back in silver-gold waves and her body swayed as she sang softly in accompaniment to the simple melody. She had a voice like a lark, soft and sweet. 

This was the answer to her problem! Why didn't she think of Faye sooner? She crept in as silently as she could, not wishing to disturb her. When the song ended, she seemed surprised to find Di there.

"Oh!" she exclaimed with a little jump, a blush coloring her pale cheeks. "I didn't realize anyone was here. Does May need to use the piano? But I thought her lessons weren't until tomorrow." She closed the music book and sprang up, her childlike face looking flustered.

"Oh no, I was just listening to the music. You play beautifully," reassured Di, making Faye blush even redder. "You must be Faye Gallagher. I'm Diana Blythe," she said, approaching Faye and smiling in that comradely way that made people immediately comfortable with her. "Are you on your way to Redmond?"

"No, I've actually finished for the day. My Arts professor let us have the afternoon off," answered Faye, responding to that friendly smile with one of her own. "So where are the children? Are they finished with their lessons also?"

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." Di sat her down and told her about Alma canceling her plans with May and their plan to put up a play to cheer her up.

As Di explained her plan to Faye, she became more and more convinced how perfect a choice Faye was for the role of Princess. Faye had a very expressive face- emotions ghosted through them as plain as print. When speaking of Alma's transgressions, her mouth drew down in a frown and her white brow furrowed. When Di described May's gloomy mood, her eyes seemed to grow misty with sympathetic tears. And when Diana ended with their surprise for May, her green-gold eyes were sparkling with excitement.  

"You want me to be the Princess for your play?" she exclaimed, looking both surprised and flattered. Then her nose crumpled a little and she shied away meekly. "It's really wonderful of you to ask me, but I'm not sure if I'm want you want for a princess. I don't know if I'm a very good actress and…" her voice grew even softer "…aren't princesses supposed to be beautiful?"

Di shook her head in surprise. "What are you saying? You are perfect for this role!" she exclaimed vehemently. "Come on, come with me!"

She half-led, half-dragged Faye to the playroom, where Aaron was coloring in the invitation and Grace was playing with some glitter and paper in an attempt to create a magic wand.

"Dryad, dryad, are you going to be in our play?" asked Aaron, bouncing up and down with excitement.

Faye looked at Di quizzically.

"Yes she is," answered Di firmly. "I'll explain later," she whispered conspiratorially at Faye. "Now shoo to your rooms, ducklings, and finish the invitation. Our princess still has to find her ball gown."

"I am going to your prince and save you from the wicked sorceress!" said Aaron, brandishing his cardboard sword.

Faye melted at this statement and capitulated completely. She ruffled his hair affectionately and said, "Now my prince, why don't you practice your swordplay in your room while I find my crown."

Aaron left with a joyful whoop with Grace following quietly, dripping glitter in her wake.

"What a lucky girl May is to have you do this for her. This is such an inspired idea," Faye said admiringly as Di rifled through the contents of the dress-up trunk.

"Oh its nothing really. My brothers and sisters used to play dress-up game and act all the time when we were younger," said Di, holding up a white silk dress with glass beads. It must have belonged to Mrs. Ashton. "My twin Nan, or my younger sister Rilla, always used to play the Princess then. I liked to play the villain… there's a little more _spice_ to it, you know?"

"Oh, so you pretend things too?" exclaimed Faye in delight, feeling as if she had found a kindred in Dream Tyme.

"Yes we did- all the time. Mrs. Alec Davis even called us a too romantic family because we were always dreaming," Di's laugh ended in a sigh, remembering all their frolics at Rainbow Valley. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dredge up painful memories for you."

Di shook her head and forced a smile. "I'm all right. Now to transform you into the Enchanted Princess of the Rose Kingdom."

Faye and Di giggled and chattered as they pulled up one dress after another. Faye seemed to lose her reticence after finding out that Di was wearing the rubber mask with the wart as the evil sorceress. After Alma's cattiness, Faye thought Di altogether jolly, finding her twinkling sense of humor and down-to-earth candor refreshing. Di likewise found Faye a fit companion, a little chatterbox after overcoming her initial shyness and filled to the brim with a childlike enthusiasm and artistic talent. She quickly fashioned a crown by twisting bits of wire together into a frame and covering it with glue and glitter, and cut bits of cloth and paper to make a want for Grace. 

The afternoon passed by quickly. Faye was a great help in setting up a makeshift stage while Di unpacked their picnic under the shade of a tall Magnolia. The children liked her immensely, 'she isn't stiff at all like other growed-ups' explained Aaron. Grace was won over by the silvery wand that Faye created for her and Aaron was equally enchanted by his dryad turned princess, and indeed, Faye did look unusually pretty in the white silk dress and beaded slippers, with her hair bound in her makeshift crown.

They had only time for a single rehearsal and then it was time for everyone to get into their costumes.  Di, majestic in a midnight blue cape, and Aaron, resplendent in his red doublet, marched into the library to May's surprise bearing their invitation to an afternoon matinee of the 'The Princess of the Frost Kingdom', complete with a splendid repast waiting in Wild Magnolias.

May looked at the invitation, first with suspicion, then with a certain rusty curiosity. She glanced at Di with a question in her eyes, as if she couldn't understand why they were doing this.

Di and Aaron waited with bated breath.

Then a reluctant smile crept up May's face and she got up and followed them out.

**2**

The play was an unqualified success. True, it would not have passed muster with the critics- there were numerous interruptions and little gaffes. Grace could not remember any of her lines and Di had to play the double role of Sorceress and prompter through most of the play. Aaron lost his sword during his duel after a slightly too vigorous swing and it had to be brought back by the fairy. At one point, the Snow Castle, a masterpiece of construction made of cardboard boxes and tape, broke in two and the curtains, which were literally the curtains off the parlor windows which Faye had 'borrowed', had to be drawn for emergency repairs. But none of that mattered to the audience, which had swelled to three- Cook, Sally and May, who clapped so hard and enthusiastically that the cast had to have three curtain calls.  

Cook and Sally left after the play, leaving the children, Di and Faye to enjoy the picnic. May generously served up the pink and white bowls of ice cream.

 "Did you like the play, May? Did you really, really like it?" asked Grace eagerly, as she licked her spoonful of strawberry ice cream. It left little pink tracks on her face but she what cared she for ice cream stains?

"Of course, I did, you little monkey!" May said, as she wiped Grace's cheek with an affection seldom seen from her. "You danced so prettily in that scene when you were trying to wake the Princess from her enchanted sleep. And you were all so cunning about it too…I never suspected a thing!"

"We wanted it to be a surprise!" explained Grace, nodding wisely.

"Well, it certainly was. When Aaron made his speech, I didn't know what you were talking about. I knew the play was already sold out in town. I never dreamed you'd try to get one up for me- and in such short notice too," said May, throwing an admiring glance at the makeshift stage and props still scattered about. 

"Creating the stage was almost as much fun as being in it," said Faye thoughtfully. "We tramped all over the house to make the sets for the castles and towers of the Frost Kingdom. I'm surprised you didn't hear us- we made enough noise for an army!"

"Next time, you have to let me take part also. I'm missing out on all the fun!" said May, as she held up the witch's mask Di had used. She made a gruesome face in imitation. "Di may have played the Wicked Sorceress, but this afternoon, I was the wicked witch. But I'll truly try not to be such a grump anymore- or Aaron might have to banish me to the Land of Frost Giants!" 

They all laughed and settled in for an hour of reminiscing about their favorite parts. The cookies and sandwiches disappeared rapidly, everyone being hungry with the afternoon's activity. Time passed by quickly, May amiably repacked the picnic things then Di proposed a walk along Wild Magnolias.

May and Diana were walking together under a twisted land of slim birches. Behind them, Faye wisely occupied the Aaron and Grace with a game of hopscotch.

"I just wanted to say thank you again, Aunt Diana," May said at last, after a few casual remarks about the production. "It was really nice of you to do something like this for me when I was being such a gloom cloud this morning."

"That's all right, dear," said Di warmly. "I know what it's like to be disappointed. Aaron told me that you were looking forward to seeing 'The Princess of the Frost Kingdom'." 

"It isn't _just_ that- I mean, I did want to see 'The Princess of the Frost Kingdom' but…" May sighed and hesitated, glancing up at Di with her sad brown eyes and meeting Di's understanding green-gray ones. Taking a deep breath, she took the plunge. "It's Alma, more than anything else. Saturday was supposed to be our special day, just the two of us."

Di nodded, even though she was a little puzzled. Aaron had never even hinted that there was anything special about this outing, any more than the usual weekend frolic. 

Sensing Di's confusion, May went on.

"Alma wasn't always like this. I know you don't think much of her…" Di winced but May seemed almost apologetic. Perhaps she was more aware of what others thought of Alma than Di had first thought. 

"… and I don't blame you. She's…_different_ now. Ever since she started going to St. Joan's, it's like she doesn't want to be with us anymore. You know, with Aaron, Grace and me. She never had a problem with us before. When we were younger, the four of us used to go to the park together on Saturdays. Alma would wheel Grace around in her stroller- Grace loved to watch the pigeons, and Aaron and I would feed the ducks in the pond. After that, Alma would buy us a small cup of ice cream. And then on Sundays, she would make one of us breakfast in bed- it was like a game, trying to see who would have this treat. But now, it's like she doesn't even notice us anymore. Since she started going to St. Joan's last year, all she cares about are her friends. They're all she talks about."

May looked away from Di, under guise of playing with a stray patch of clover. It was a long speech for May to make but Di appreciated that she was finally opening up to her a little. She only hoped that she could give May good advice. 

"That isn't true, dear. She's going through a lot of changes herself- classes are harder and she's meeting lots of new people. So it's natural that she'd be busy with her new friends. But that doesn't mean that she cares for you any less."

"I don't think so," mumbled May. "Since she's been to St. Joan's, we've never been to the park anymore… we've never been anywhere. Grace and Aaron don't care so much about it- but I do."

"I think I understand now how you feel. I've felt that way often myself. You see, I have a twin sister Nan," said Di.

"You do?" May's eyes widened. "But where is she? Don't you want to do everything together?"

"Oh, she's a teacher in Edgewood and we're living in this sweet little house. Maybe you could go see it some time. When we were young, younger than you are now, we did everything together. We shared a room, our books, our toys… we used to whisper to each other at night under the covers after Mums kissed us good night.  But then things changed when we started going to school…"

"Like what changes?" asked May warily.  

"Oh nothing too terrible," assured Di quickly. "Things were just different, that's all. Suddenly, it wasn't just Nan and me, and my other brother and sisters.  There were lots of other girls in school- fun girls we wanted to get to know and be chums with. And we didn't always like the same ones.  

I still remember the first time Nan walked home with another girl- Dora Clow, I think," Di smiled at the memory of her outraged reaction. "Oh for just one moment I hated Dora for walking home with my twin sister. There was no logic in it but I just thought that Nan and I wouldn't be as much _twin_ anymore if we started walking home with different people. But then, I fell in with Pauline Reese and then there were the Merediths… and just because we're twins, doesn't mean we're the same people. We had different chums and we liked to different things. I remember that we had a Shakespearian production once– 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. Nan loved to act in plays, and she got the part of Titania, I think. I liked to stay more in the background- the teacher made me stage director. So I got to tell people what to do and where to go," Di grinned at May, and May smiled back a little. "So we went our own way eventually." 

"But… you still like each other, right?" asked May uncertainly. "I mean, you're still friends?"

"Better. She's my twin. Oh, we had our little spats… I could be stubborn and Nan could be very particular at times, but no matter what, she's my twin." Di's eyes were a little misty, as she continued. "When my brother Walter died, I was devastated. I was at Redmond when I heard the news. At first, I couldn't believe it and then after I just felt… lost. It was a difficult time but it was Nan who helped me find my way back.  It's strange but losing Walter made me realize how much Nan meant to me. And she was there for me…and always will be."

Di swallowed back a sniff and for a moment, she couldn't speak. She walked a little off the path, and lay down in a soft patch of grass. May sat down next to her and squeezed her hand sincerely, if a little awkwardly. 

"So don't lose faith in Alma just yet. To be honest, I think she has been a wee bit selfish of late… but I think she's struggling to find her place too," said Di slowly as May looked down on her. "As I said, she's going through some changes but don't take that to mean that she no longer cares for you. Things are just _changing_, that's all. Oh, this is so hard to explain…" burst out Di, sitting up and wishing that she was a better hand at explaining emotional things like this. Mother or Una would have handled this better. "Am I making sense at all?" 

"Much," said May, smiling assurance. Then it gave way to a frustrated little sigh, "I guess things are different now," acknowledged May. "But it would be easier if I didn't have to see her going out all the time. She's always doing so many things…without me," May frowned. "Is it bad to wish that she wouldn't be quite so happy with her new friends? I miss her."

"Perhaps she doesn't realize this. Maybe she thinks that like Grace and Aaron, it doesn't matter so much to you." 

"So what do you think I should do?" asked May. "I can't talk to Alma like I used to. She's awfully busy."

"Well, I don't think we can magically make things what they were… that's really up to Alma. But perhaps we can do something to show her that you miss her…why don't you make her breakfast in bed like she used to do?" suggested Di.

"I guess I could," replied Alma slowly. "Cook would help me and I know all of Alma's favorite food. But I'm… I'm a little afraid…" this she confessed with a worried look. "I need somebody to be there with me. Will you help me, Aunty Diana?"

"Of course, May. I've always wanted to," answered Di warmly. 

May hesitated and then leaned in to give her a hug.

The two of them walked back to the Ashtons' together, to talk the plan over with Cook. Even though it was her day off, Di promised that she would come in early on Sunday to help prepare the meal with May. Tired from the afternoon's activities, Di tucked Aaron and Grace into bed for a nap while May went into her room to study in earnest. 

Before she left, Di stayed to tidy things up, putting back borrowed items in their proper places. Faye offered to help her dismantle the sets, not without some inward repining for her artistry. 

"You were wonderful in the play- you're a natural actress," said Di as they put away the costumes in the trunk. 

"Thank you. When I was a little girl, my best friend and I used to play-act also. We'd dress up and act out the stories in my picture books for my Mum and Dad," reflected Faye with a wide smile. "I haven't done it in a long time though. Grams doesn't think it proper. I'd forgotten how much fun it was."

Di shut the trunk and turned off the lights in the playroom.  "Well, don't think you'll get off so easily now. I heard Aaron, Grace and May talking about their next production." 

"As long as I get top billing!" joked Faye.  

"Not with May around…your reign as star is over," responded Di teasingly. They walked down the stairs. "I've seen that girl read aloud and she is very talented."

"She must take after her mother then," commented Faye. "But she's welcome to take my part. I'd rather work on designing the boards. I love to draw and paint. "

"And you'll have lots of chances to– today's show will only be the first of many, I hope," Di said as she reached for her coat. "I really have to go. It's my turn to help with dinner."  

"Well, I've had a wonderful afternoon. Thank you for including me," Faye said softly. 

"You're always welcome to join us in our plays. Aaron and Grace loved you and you were such a great help, with the costumes and the stage, not to mention playing the Princess," Diana said then impulsively added, "Why don't you drop by the Bower and have dinner with us?"

"With you?" stammered Faye, her green-gold eyes searching Di's doubtfully. But all she saw in Di's gray-green eyes were the same cordiality she had extended the whole afternoon. How different they were from Alma's! 

It was an invitation Faye couldn't possibly refuse. "I'd love to."


	6. At the Bower

Chapter 6: At the Bower 

The following Sunday morning, the Ashton kitchen was a mixture of savoury smells, sweet batter, sizzling eggs, and the sunny scent of oranges. May was a good cook – she prepared an Ashton breakfast favorite- pancakes with banana bits, much beloved because their father used to make it for them on Sunday mornings. Di prepared the fresh-squeezed orange juice, omelets and Viennese sausages.

"Alma used to make the exact same breakfast for me last year," confided May, as she slathered maple syrup over the pile of pancakes. Then she decorated the tray with a vase brimming with crimson dahlias, which were Alma's favorite flowers.

Alma was all ready awake, reading a magazine on her bed, her brown curls still tumble-tossed from sleep when May and Di entered her room. She looked up at the interruption with a frown but when she saw the tray Di was holding, her grumpy expression turned to one of surprise. "What's this?"

"I hope we're not disturbing you," greeted May, almost timidly. "But since we didn't get to go to the play yesterday, I thought I'd bring you breakfast and keep you company this morning. You don't mind, do you?"

"Oh May darling, of course I don't," Alma said in a soft voice, not at all in her usual gushing way. Then her lips slipped into a wavering smile as she leaned in to give May a hug. Di thought she saw tears in her eyes as she left the two in Alma's bedroom for a confidential, sisterly chat.

Di was eating breakfast in the Ashtons' kitchen in when Alma and May came down. Alma announced that the two of them were taking a walk around the neighborhood.   Alma slipped Di a little thank you as she left. She thought it was the first sincere thing that Alma had said to her, and she appreciated it.

Things didn't change overnight at the Ashtons but it was a turning point, nonetheless. May reported glowingly that Alma had decided to keep Saturday mornings free for just the two of them. She even promised to buy matinee tickets to the 'The Princess of the Frost Kingdom', which had been extended for another week. 

"So I'll get to watch it after all," said May with a bright smile. "Though it'll have hard work beating your production. Nothing beats seeing Grace in that fairy costume with the little peaked hat, even if she did forget all her lines."

The alliance between Di and May was not the only one forged that fateful afternoon. Di and Faye grew more intimate by the day. The children adored Faye. She drew sketches for them, sang songs and played games readily. Though eighteen and supposedly grown-up, she had never quite lost that childlike ability of seeing an adventure in the smallest things, and so she prospered finely with the Ashton children.  

Faye had taken Di up on her invitation to dine at the Bower and soon became a regular. She shared her love of music with Nan and kept the piano in tune with myriad melodies. Una in her motherly way took Faye under her wing and Persis found a most devoted audience for her jokes and sallies. Faye blossomed under the influence of this merry band, though she had her doubts with Nan and Persis, whose obvious beauty and charms reminded her of a horrendous argument with a certain spoiled Ashton. Since her argument with Alma, the two of them had kept their distance. Faye was too timid to make any more friendly advances and Alma, uncomfortably aware of her transgressions, was too proud. So Faye found herself dealing more warily with those whom she saw as 'beautiful' and 'popular' than she might have if that unfortunate argument had not happened. 

After that first supper, Faye was not at all sure if she liked Nan. She was rather in awe of Nan's beauty, her silky nut-brown hair, starry brown eyes and faultless complexion, evident even in the plain cotton dress she wore for it was her turn to cook supper. And though Faye dared not express it, she had been afraid to find her another Alma, for Nan was a bit of a coquette and knew the power that her sunny charms had on men. 

She was glad to be proven wrong however, for as the days passed, Faye saw through the merry, flirtatious façade to the sensitive, tenderhearted dreamer underneath. She glimpsed something of herself in Nan's vivid inner life, seldom spoken of, but essential to Nan's character in an innate, intimate way. Nan was not the nurturer that Di was for she had a queenly air about her that was sometimes daunting; but once Faye had been inducted in her select circle, she found Nan's heart brimful of sympathy and loyalty.     

Persis was yet another one who intimidated Faye in the beginning. During her first dinner in the Bower, Persis had kept the table in stitches with her quirky, oft times bitingly honest encounters during the day and Faye thought her awesomely clever. Though she was a year younger than the Blythe twins, she exuded a sassy sort of confidence that both challenged and captivated. She was a creature of many moods- spilling over with honeyed words one second and then displaying a shocking frankness the next. She seemed to enjoy being outrageous but through it all she remained altogether charming. Perhaps it was her dimpled smile, that ultimate of womanly wiles, which allowed her to remain deliciously feminine despite her forward manner. 

Persis rather bewildered Faye at first, for in the beginning she was too shy to join in the repartee, and Persis poked fun at her rather mercilessly. A serious talk from Di brought a stop to that however, for well-meaning Persis never intentionally wanted to hurt anyone. She tried to soften her commentary for Faye's sake while Faye tried to take Di's advice and 'not take it personally'. They met each other halfway, and found that they liked each other. Persis really was funny and fascinating, once one got used to her sense of humor, and Faye did have a wit of her own once released from her cocoon of timidity.   

But it was in Una that Faye found a kindred spirit though the comradeship did not spring up as quickly as it did between Faye and Di.  Both of them were rather shy and quiet in company and Una was often overshadowed by Nan and Persis. In her first few weeks at the Bower, Faye laughed and chattered with Persis and the twins, while Una was mostly a silent presence in the background. Perhaps things would have remained that way if it hadn't been for one fateful afternoon.  

Faye had arrived at the Bower a little earlier than usual. No one else was there- Nan was still at school, Persis at an interview and Di at the Ashtons'. Una had answered the door and bade her come in. Faye entered hesitantly, with that vague feeling of discomfort of having to make conversation alone with someone she barely knew. But she couldn't hurt Una's feelings with a hasty, made-up excuse and so she braved her uneasiness as they sat in the living room together.

Faye racked her brains, trying to think of something interesting to say when her eyes fell on a framed photo displayed at the living room table.  

It was a family picture taken some years ago- Una appeared to be fifteen or sixteen in it, looking very sweet in a pretty midnight blue dress. There was a handsome dark-haired older man- Una's father- and in front of him was a tall boy with flashing dark eyes. Faye knew that he must be Nan's Jerry, who she had yet to meet. A brown-haired beauty with laughing eyes had her arms around Una, and kneeling in front of them another boy with a mischievous twinkle in his dark-blue eyes. He was holding a chubby, black-browed toddler in his arms. They made such a pretty picture of family love that Faye couldn't help envying them. Having no siblings of her own, large families interested her very much.

But her eyes lingered on a fair, golden-haired woman, with such beautiful blue eyes and a sweet smile. Una's mother, Faye thought, with a little twinge of longing in her heart for her own. 

"What a lovely family you have," Faye said. "And that's a beautiful dress you were wearing. Was this a special occasion?" 

Una nodded, "We had that picture taken at a picnic in Rainbow Valley with the Blythes. It was Faith's sixteenth birthday- Jerry had just come home from teaching and he insisted on a family picture. It was one of the last times the old gang was gathered in Rainbow Valley."

"It looks a little bit like Wild Magnolias," remarked Faye, taking a closer look at the background of blue skies and green foliage. "It's such fun to have a little bit of woodsy wilderness at your doorstep, isn't it?"

"Rainbow Valley was a saving grace for us Merediths- we really had nowhere else for us to play in, aside from the Methodist graveyard," Una smiled in remembrance of plays long gone. "We trysted there almost every afternoon with the Blythes. Mother Rosemary said that we practically lived in Rainbow Valley during the summers. We'd tell stories and have banquets…oh, we had just lovely times."

Una related some of their more memorable escapades- the time they cleaned house on Sunday and Faith's explanation, Faith's encounter with Norman Douglas and their encounter with what they thought was the ghost of Henry Warren. Faye shrieked with laughter as Una gaily recounted the time Faith rode a pig down Main Street. 

"It made such a sensation and Faith and Walter were the talk of the Glen, afterwards" ended Una, shaking her head ruefully. "But Faith was never one to shy away from any attention."

"Your mother must have had a hard time bringing-up such a wild gang. I bet Jerry, Faith and Carl were a handful," teased Faye.

"Mother Rosemary is actually my stepmum," corrected Una softly, the laughter fading a little from her face. "My mother… died when I was very young."

"I'm so sorry," whispered Faye. She reached for Una's hand and squeezed it sympathetically. "Do you…remember… much about her?"

Una's eyes looked faraway as she answered. "I was only six then. I can't quite picture her face… but I remember bright eyes and a gay voice and…and the sweetest laughter. Mother loved to laugh."

The two were silent for a long moment, until Faye whispered, "Mine did too."

Una looked up at Faye questioningly and saw her own sorrow mirrored so clearly in Faye's green-gold eyes. That pain, that look they shared, brought them closer in spirit than years of friendship might have done. Faye felt that she could never feel awkward with Una again- the tie of mutual sorrow loosened their tongues and the two talked freely. Una confided in Faye, and Faye in Una, telling her sweet and poignant details of her past history that not even Di had glimpsed.   

"Father died when I was three and for a long, long time, it was just Mother and me. We used to travel all over Europe, just the two of us. Others can't imagine… how desolate I felt… still feel sometimes… when she had gone. We had such fun together- she was my very best chum, even better than Bets," Faye said, sniffling a little. 

"I know what you mean," said Una, her own eyes a little misty. "Once, Father went to a camping trip with Jerry and Carl with some other ministers and their sons, so it was just us girls in the Maywater manse. It rained the whole day so Faith and I couldn't play outside, and Mum couldn't go to the Ladies Aid meeting. We were feeling pretty blue when Mum suggested that the three of us have a pajama party- only it would last the entire day, instead of just at night.  

Faith and I never changed out of our pajamas and Mum found an old pair of hers. We had a tea party with all my dolls and Faith started a pillow fight. Aunt Martha thought Mum was dippy when she saw the three of us jumping in bed, with feathers flying everywhere…" Una said with a little laugh. "…but Mum only smiled and asked her to join us. Then later that night, she cuddled down with us and read the most delightful fairy stories until Faith and I were asleep."

"Mother used to read to me at night, too," said Faye. "But I liked it best when we sat at the piano and sang together during the evenings. Mother was very musical and she could play so well- she was just beginning to teach me when…" Her voice trailed off, heavy with regret.

"I understand. Mother Rosemary is a very kind dear chum to me but once in a while, I think- " Una paused, uttering a wistful, almost inaudible sigh "how different things might have been, if Mother were alive."

"But I hope you're feeling less lonely, now that you're here in college," said Una, smiling her sweetest despite the pain she was feeling. "Time… and change… are always a balm for old sorrows. I know it helped me a lot when we moved to the Glen and we met the Blythes." 

"I know. And I'm so grateful to Di for introducing me to Nan and Persis… and you!" exclaimed Faye, giving Una an impulsive hug. Faye appreciated Una's hearty attempt to cheer her up and turned the conversation to lighter, more cheerful matters.

From then on, Faye grew closer to Una than with any other, save Di. Faye admired Una intensely, despite the fact that Una was not at all like the ideal woman that Faye had fashioned in her mind. Una was not as beautiful as Persis or Nan, not especially charming or fascinating. She was not flashy and never tried to put herself forward. 

But beneath Una's shyness was a dependability of spirit, a steadfast devotion to family and friends that Faye wished she could emulate. Una always had time for others- she rarely displayed impatience and was never judgmental. Everyone, including Faye, held her in the highest regard and went to her for advice and consolation. 

So the year got older and warm days gave way to crisp fall mornings and autumn evenings. Faye's horizons at Redmond widened slowly. At first, her natural timidity found her rather in the fringes of things but like a slowly rising star, she gathered to herself other shy and dreamy creatures and became quite chummy with them. She walked with them to class, had lively discussions over class work and joined them in the occasional lark. 

But with no one was Faye more intimate than the girls of the Bower. There were some bumps at the beginning for it is natural that when one joins a group of friends that have known each other a good long while that one may feel like an outsider at first. There was such a deep _history_ between the four girls. They shared childhood memories and friendships that she could never be part of but desperately wanted to share. 

But by dint of Faye's frequent presence in the Bower, she met Jem, Jerry and Carl, who occasionally called at the Bower and invited the girls out to Redmond functions and social outings. Una and Di entreated them to be 'especially nice to Faye, for she's a timid little thing'. But the two needn't have asked, for there was something about Faye, an innocent, even naïve air, that awoke a sense of chivalry in all men, even in this modern age. 

Faye got along best with Carl, for they both shared an enduring love of the outdoors and unlike most girls, she did not share their common horror of insects.  

"I'm not much afraid of bugs and I rather like mice," declared Faye, as she and Carl sat at the park one day, watching a spider weave its web.  "Don't you think that spider webs look like fairy embroidery?"

So Faye and Carl became quite good chums. She showed him Wild Magnolias and the two shared many a long ramble communing with bug and bough. She was never quite as close to Jem and Jerry, who were a good deal older than her but she thought them two handsome, splendid fellows. The two, for their part, petted her and treated her like a younger sister. She was delighted with their attentions for it gave her a taste of that tie that the four had shared, that feeling of belonging to a happy, homelike place.

"I've always wanted a big family and now I feel like you've given me three older brothers," confided Faye one night, as she and Di sat on the rug in front of the fire. Di was helping her with her algebra exercises.

"You'll have four soon enough," said Di. "You've met almost everybody except Shirley and Rilla. She's engaged to Ken Ford- Persis' brother, you know. They'll be married in August next year- I'm to be a bridesmaid and Persis is to be the maid-of-honour."

"Then afterwards, you and Persis will become sisters as well as friends. How wonderful!" Faye remarked, a touch enviously. "What about Shirley? Where has he been hiding?" 

"Oh, he's studying here at Redmond, only he can't call as often as the others. He won this prestigious internship in the Economics department and now he's working long hours at a bank in Newbridge. But I'm sure you'll meet him one of these days," replied Di.   

Under the warm circle of her new friendships, Faye blossomed like a bud in spring. They included her in all their frolics; shopping for dresses, picnics at the park and cozy dinners at the Bower fireside, until it seemed that she had always been one of them and shared in all the talks and works of the Bower. It was great fun for Faye, for as Persis said, she was learning how to run a household without the bother of getting a husband and witnessing firsthand how four girls could live together with a minimum of petty catfights.  

Una was elected household accountant straightaway and no one disputed her control over the kitchen affairs and the treasury. She was a practical and capable administrator, managing the funds so expertly that there was money left for Nan and Persis' occasional culinary confabulations. The girls loved coming home to find a baked treat waiting; fragrant almond cookies, maple sugar buns and frosted doughnuts in the style of Miss Cornelia. 

Occasionally, Di would assist Una with dinner for she was the more 'culinarily talented twin' as Nan called it.  

"Di was Susan's most apt student- well, until Rilla started taking an interest in cooking anyway," remarked Nan, as the five of them sat at the kitchen table. Una had just placed a cherry pie in the oven while a casserole was bubbling on the stove. "Di cooked as easily as she calculated sums in mathematics; chop, stir, bake and 1-2-3, it was done. And they always came out looking just like the picture in the cookbook, while mine was always a shade or two off, with mysterious lumps to boot. "

"Was it because you didn't follow the recipe?" asked Persis with a grin. "That was always my problem with cooking; Mother said I liked to experiment too much. She never knew how any of my recipes would turn out, even if I'd cooked it a hundred times before, until she'd taken a bite out of it."

"No, my problem was I was usually too busy daydreaming. I could never remember which ingredient I had already added and always end up with double spoonfuls of everything."

"She tried baking a cake for Mother's birthday once when we were eleven and it was a dismal failure," corroborated Di teasingly.

"It might have been the best cake I ever made. I measured everything twice and followed the recipe scrupulously," protested Nan. "And I'm sure the batter was delicious because Shirley kept putting his finger in it. He licked the bowl clean too. Everything was going well, up until the moment I put it in the oven."

"Then she forgot all about it and it burned to a crisp. I could never forget Dad's face as he came running in the kitchen with the fire extinguisher. A minute longer and Nan might have set the kitchen on fire," Di ended with a laugh.

In return for Una's services, the three girls divvied up the other chores and did them in a round robin, the schedule of which was neatly posted in the 'Announcements' corkboard hanging in the kitchen. In this manner, the question of the division of labor was resolved very smoothly and there was lots of time for amusement at the Bower.

One of their favorite activities was reading the "Rosebud Weekly Chronicle", held Monday night in Una's garret. Persis, by way of sharpening her writing talents, came up with the idea. It was a breezy little newsletter filled with epistles of teaching life, romantic stories penned by Persis or Nan, recipes from Una, sketches from Faye and bits about the boys' doings and excerpts of letters from the Glen folk that they called 'Annals of the Glen'. 

Persis took care of the funniest part of the paper- the Rosebud Social Register. Here, Persis listed the name of every boy who came calling and wrote funny and occasionally biting descriptions of each visit. These little bulletins immortalized strange habits and the queer little quirks of character of each caller and recalled many a happy and amusing Friday evening, as evidenced by this little entry at the latest edition of the Chronicle.  

_Mr. Myron Reddings, from the School of Medicine, called on Miss Nan Blythe just this_

_Friday evening. He looked impeccable in his chocolate brown suit, starched stiff enough to resemble a suit of armor, with a jaunty crimson bow tie. His hair was slicked back with enough grease to account for the increase in the price of oil this week. The topic of conversation included tonsillitis, appendicitis and various viruses and bacteria, whose names I sadly cannot include here for I know not how to spell them._

The much maligned Myron was a very fussy, particular boy, who always sat stiffly at the edge of the couch with a vaguely worried expression on his thin pinched face. He had a myriad of food allergies and liked to talk about them- Persis could not resist baiting him by asking about his maladies – and off he would go into the most exquisite detail. He also delighted in talking about what new diseases were discovered, as well as the latest in surgical procedures, speaking in such complicated medical jargon that he might as well have been speaking in Greek. 

Nan was too polite to put Myron off; he was a classmate of Jem's and was considered quite brilliant in his class. So she suffered his visits with as much winsome cordiality as she could muster. Una, Di and Faye were also very polite, but Persis, the little devil, was hard put to keep a straight face and they all teased Nan rather mercilessly afterwards.

"Someday, we'll show this to our children so they might know what their dear mothers were like when they were youngsters," said Persis, after the round of laughter had ended.

"As if they needed further proof of your degeneracy, Pers," teased Di while Nan divested the paper from Persis' possession to read the next entry, which detailed one of Persis' lovesick swains. Persis had no problem poking fun at her own admirers.

There was no drought of male company in the Bower. As bees buzzed around flowers, Nan and Persis had a phalanx of admirers at their beck and call.  Faye was an incurable romantic and liked to hear all about their love affairs. She knew all about the Blythe-Meredith connections of Jem and Faith, Nan and Jerry. Though she was friendly with other boys, Nan was quite devoted to Jerry but Persis was quite a different story. Faye listened and laughed at Persis' romantic tribulations, for her blue eyes and dimpled smile wreaked havoc among male hearts. Faye often found the way they were crowded shoulder-to-shoulder in the small sofa, shooting daggered looks at each other and elbowing for room, vastly amusing. 

Not that Nan and Persis were the only ones to receive company. A quietly handsome lad often dropped by on Friday evenings to exchange conversations with Una. Di had plenty of friends among the Redmond boys and she spent many evenings talking sports with them. 

Faye had her own admirers also. There was lanky George Pickins, a little long in the chin and with slightly bulbous blue eyes, who passed her notes during English class. They were filled with unfortunately bad poetry, George having no knowledge of rhyme and meter, but Faye did not doubt their sincerity. George was always tongue-tied around Faye but she took special pains to be kind to him, remembering her own awkwardness. 

On the other hand, Barry Olsen was a round, jolly youth, full of jokes and fun. Both he and Faye knew about his feelings for her. Faye liked him for a chum- he was always making her laugh – but she didn't care for him in the way he wanted. 

"Another letter from the faithful George?" remarked Di when Faye glanced up from a piece of flower scented stationery with a look of suppressed mirth in her eyes.

"Oh, it's too bad of you to laugh, Di," reproached Faye as Di shrieked with laughter over the particularly bad specimen… though she was hard pressed not to follow suit. 

"How _could_ you refuse him after such an elegant plea?" said Di with a rueful smile. "I ought not to laugh – love does strange things to a boy's mind.  But how do you feel about him, Faye? Or Barry? He's a nice chap."

"Oh both of them are- really as nice and sweet as boys can be, I think. I almost wish I could care for one of them – but I don't," admitted Faye, as she tucked the note in her pocket. "What about you, Di? I heard some talk from Nan about the party last week- some boy had taken quite a fancy to you."

"Oh that," said Di dismissively, though her cheeks turned a little pink. "Jem introduced me to one of his classmates- Marcus Daly. Nan thinks that he likes me, but you know my sister- she sees romances everywhere."

"Is this the _same_ Marcus who walked you home last night?" asked Faye innocently. 

Di punched her shoulder gently. "You sly child! You are learning entirely too much from Persis."

"I learn from the best," grinned Faye. "Now Di, you must start at the beginning. How did you meet him? Are you fond of him at all?"

"Faye darling, how could I answer that? I've just met him after all," protested Di. Marcus had been a pleasant enough fellow- affable and easygoing. He had danced with her more times than anyone else, got her punch, and later, they had taken a moonlit stroll around the garden. He had been unfailingly polite and though Di treated him in that comradely way of hers, the way she might have Jem or Jerry, he had somehow telegraphed feelings that were more than just friendly. 

Di had to admit she found the devotion flattering. So often it was Nan that the boys flocked to, admiring her lovely brown hair and faultless complexion. Nan's sparkling, hazel eyes glanced demurely and coquettishly at boys, while Di's green-gray eyes met them swiftly and frankly. Di did not suffer from a lack of male companionship- but they gravitated to her as good comrades and was seldom the object of their admiration. Until now, it seemed. 

It was a new feeling and Di was rather afraid of revealing any silly sentiment, which was why she said, "Go to bed, Faye. You have classes tomorrow."

Faye laughed and smilingly said good night.  She knew that this was Di's way of avoiding the subject- for now. There would be plenty of opportunity to badger her about it tomorrow.   

She settled down beside Di, pulling the apple leaf quilt up to her chin. Nan was sleeping in Persis' room for after their chat, it was too late for Faye to return to the Ashtons'.

Faye was not the least bit sleepy, so she thought a little bit about Marcus as Di drifted off to dreamland. Was he nice? Was he handsome? Though she was genuinely happy that Di had an admirer, she couldn't help but feel a small pang of envy. George and Barry were sweet but the sight of them didn't make her heart race- though George's poetry did bring a smile to her face. Her heart beat its regular pace, she didn't get goose bumps, she didn't display any of the symptoms that girls in romance novels described when they were in love. Her first taste of romance was so… humdrum… it was a little disappointing.

_Now, stop that!_ Faye commanded. _George and Barry are perfectly nice fellows._

But a part of her whispered, _But you don't want nice. You want to be swept off your feet. You want a fairy-tale romance._

Unbidden, a face appeared before her, as it did often when she thought of these things. A certain rosy-cheeked, brown-eyes face with that meditative glance and slow, warm smile. 

She had never told Di, or anyone else, about her brown boy though she thought of him often. What was there to tell really? Except for that moonlit encounter at Wild Magnolias, she hadn't seen him again. It seemed silly to dream of him when she did not even know his name. Yet it didn't seem to matter… for it was as if they already knew each other, as if each had taken measure of the other and had been satisfied. 

What was it that expression that Di had used? The race of Joseph always knew each other.  

Well, they had always known each other…_And I'll know his name…because I was meant to know… someday… _Faye thought as she drifted off to sleep.


	7. A Picnic at St Francis

Chapter 7: A Picnic at St. Francis 

**1**

It was unusually sunny for an October morning and Faye, Persis and Una were lounging in Una's garret at the end of a busy week. 

Una's garret was a universal favourite with the girls. At the beginning it was a dark and dusty room, rather small because of the roof that slanted at either side and filled with junk and furniture too old or broken to be of use. It was first discussed that Persis and Una would share the blue room but the latter, knowing of Persis' need for privacy because of her writing, offered to stay in the garret. 

"Isn't it just like Una?" Di whispered to Nan. 

The girls' responded to this generosity by pouring forth all their combined powers of decorating, until it was the dearest room in the Bower. 

The room was not entirely without virtues. It was, by dint of its smallness, a cozy place and always filled with delicious shadows. There was a round window, which Una fancied very much. It was a little like a porthole. She liked to sit up in bed sometimes and look at the stars from this window, for they seemed very near to her then.   

Nan and Di bought a cunning bookcase and a flower shaped lamp with a rose-colored shade. They draped the room with bright colored sashes from which they hung pictures and Una's finished pieces of cross-stitch. Una bought a pale pink rug, many plump cushions for sitting and a rocking chair. Persis bought a hammock that she tied to one corner of the room, where the roof sloped down. It was generally filled with a jumble of things – schoolbooks, sweaters, Una's sewing kit. She converted some old crates into tables by covering them with pretty patterned cloth. Faye contributed her best sketches and a string of lights, for the garret was apt to be rather dark even in sunny days.

Faye was curled up in the bed with a book, while Una sat at the rocking chair, busy with her embroidery. Persis was lying lazily on the hammock when she heard the phone ring. She scrambled downstairs.  

"That was Carl," announced Persis when she returned. "He has to go St. Francis this afternoon and take pond samples for his biology class. He's asking if we could drop by and keep him company."

"Well, I haven't any classes today and the weather is unusually warm," remarked Una, smiling. "It would be nice to spend the day outdoors. Knowing Carl, I better pack a hamper for him."

"I'd love to come also," said Faye. "I want a sketch of the lagoon for my Dream book."

Persis went downstairs to tell Di, who was still in bed. "Since the Ashtons' have gone to the seaside for a week-long vacation, the girl has been positively lazy," she said in mock sternness, sending Faye and Una giggling.

After lunch, the four girls packed a basket and left a message for Nan, who was still in a teacher's conference, to follow them later. Dressed in ruffled gingham, they set off for St. Francis, Persis looking angelic in pale blue, Faye in buttercup yellow, Di in pale green and Una in navy blue.     

The park was a marvelous landscape of small sloping hills and fragrant meadows that were a medley of green grass and flowers, intersected by winding cobblestone paths and pretty wooden benches. In the middle of the park was a lagoon, where families and couples liked to row, delighting over the solitude, the picturesque view and the refreshing breeze. 

The park was by no means empty when they arrived. Redmond co-eds liked to frequent the place, finding it a better study hall than the stuffy libraries. Families walked down the paths, the children playing hide-and-seek in the bushes and then sitting, exhausted, on the benches with little cups of ice cream. St Francis was very popular for unlike other parks, it had no fences, no 'keep off the grass' signs. Everyone was quite free to rove as they liked among the trees and shrubbery. Winston Barrows, the tycoon who built the park as his legacy, was a passionate lover of nature and wanted to foster an appreciation for natural beauty in the community.

Carl met them at the park with a collection of nets and jars. He smiled broadly at the quartet of fresh-faced women, his eyes lingering on the way the light shone on Persis' blond curls.

"You came alone, Carl?" asked Persis.

"Yes but Marcus Daly is coming by in a little while and he's bringing friends," replied Carl with a none-too-subtle wink at Di. She rolled her eyes at him in response as the others exchanged knowing glances. 

Marcus Daly's infatuation for Di was already an established fact for the Bower girls and their friends, though Marcus and Di were introduced only two weeks ago.  He had called several times at the Bower and for the most part, had passed their intense scrutiny. Nan thought him unfailingly polite and a 'gentleman', although Persis did express privately to Faye that she thought him rather dull.  

"He's too respectable and conventional," remarked Persis. "But I suppose he and Di would make a good match, for she's the most practical, sensible girl I ever knew."  

At any rate, there were no particularly strenuous objections and the bulletin written up on his visits in the 'Rosebud Social Register' were always favourable. 

But none of them were altogether sure how Di felt about him. When it came to emotional matters, Di was rather close-mouthed. 

Carl and the girls chose a spot under a towering maple at the crest of a small hill, enjoying the shade after their walk in the sun. Di waved to some of her friends from Redmond while Una joined a small group of her classmates, who wanted her to try the frosted cake they baked for cooking class. Persis was almost immediately attended and carried away by acquaintances from Kingsport. Carl was actively exploring the contents of the hamper. After polishing off a sandwich, he collected his nets and jars and was off to the lagoon. 

"I'll be back in a half hour," he said. "Don't let Persis get at that basket or there'll be nothing left for my before-dinner snack."

"I can't make any promises," joked Faye, as she waved goodbye to Carl. She sighed as she looked at the scene before her- blue skies, fleecy clouds and a two curly-haired children nodding off on the grass like sleepy poppies. It was such a pretty sight that she was quite ready to whip out her sketchbook if she weren't untimely interrupted by the arrival of Marcus Daly. A budding romance was so interesting that her drawings could wait. 

She stole a glance at Di, looking for telltale signs of maidenly love but except for a faint flush on her cheeks, there didn't seem to be any.

Di herself was not sure what she felt about Marcus Daly. He was a tall, pleasant-faced lad with close-cropped reddish blond hair and dark-gray eyes. She liked his down-to-earth manner, despite the fact that he came from an affluent line of doctors, and they were interested in a lot of the same things. She enjoyed his company but it wasn't exactly an all-consuming passion. But it _had_ only been two weeks.

"Hello Di," he greeted, smiling appreciatively at the slender figure in green. "Carl told me that you'd be here so naturally I had to rush over." 

Di laughed, the colour on her cheek deepening, as Marcus sat down beside her. His attention _was_ very gratifying.

"So where's your other half?" he asked, looking around. "It's a Saturday so school's off, isn't it?"  

Di smothered a small pang of annoyance. She hated that term 'other half' – as if being a twin meant that you were only half a person.  "Nan had to attend a teacher's conference. She'll be here later."

Marcus was about to speak, when a tall somebody suddenly interrupted, "Ahem, Marc." 

Di blinked, rather startled. She had been so caught up in Marcus that she barely noticed that he had come with a friend – and a very handsome one, by the looks of him.  

"Not to take anything away from the lovely Miss Blythe but I think introductions are in order, isn't it?" the boy said, as he took his seat beside the pair.  

"Oh, right. Diana, this is my good friend Sylvester Symington," said Marcus sheepishly. 

Sylvester shook his head, half in amusement, half in exasperation. He was pale and broad-shouldered, with dark hair sweeping across his white brow and pale silver-blue eyes. "Very pleased to _finally_ meet you, Diana," he said, smiling and displaying beautiful white teeth. But even as he greeted Di, his eyes were looking past her. They were focused on Faye, who was quietly sitting apart from the little group, but eyeing them with interest all the same.  

"Oh excuse me! It's wonderful to meet you, Sylvester," responded Di. "And this is my friend, Faye Gallagher," she said, bringing her into the group.

Sylvester immediately engaged Faye in a conversation, while Di and Marcus were caught up in a lively discussion of football. Marcus was a member of the football team at Redmond and they were currently enjoying a winning streak. 

"I would love for you to watch the game next week- if you're not doing anything, that is," said Marcus shyly.  

"I'd love to," answered Di with a warm smile. "Next week's game is the Regional championship, isn't it?"

"Yes. If we win, we'll have the chance to compete for the Division cup," Marcus said, his gray eyes shining with excitement. "Here, I'll give you two tickets. Have Nan come along to keep you company."

"Thank you but Nan's not especially fond of football," commented Di. "But Faye here likes it and I'm sure she'd love to watch the game with me." 

Di's face was turned towards Faye and so, she didn't notice the disappointed expression that clouded Marcus' face. But it remained only a moment and he was smiling again as Di turned back to him, asking how yesterday's practice went. 

As for Di, she listened to Marcus' answer with half a mind for she couldn't help noticing the attention Sylvester paid Faye. She usually felt a bit protective of her shy friend but to Di's surprise, Faye displayed none of the timidity that she usually had around boys. The two sat a little apart in animated conversation, though Di was able to glean a lot about him from bits and pieces that she heard. He was a law student who lived in the same floor with Marcus, and from his expensive, well-made suit and his well-bred manner it was easy to tell that he came from a prominent family. He seemed intelligent and like Faye, he was fond of books. 

Both traveled extensively and they talked of Europe as easily as they might have Toronto or Ontario.

"I've actually spent the last summer in England. Which part are you from?" asked Sylvester.

"We live just outside of Castle Coombe, in Southern Cotswold."

"Why, that's right near our place- we have a summer home in Bath," exclaimed Sylvester. "Although I must admit I haven's explored much of the Cotswold. Mother confined our touring around the city mostly- she can never get enough of Milsom Street!"

"If it's shopping she wants, then she must visit Stroud. Bath is a wonderful place but you must allow me to show you around Cotswold the next time you visit England," Faye said warmly, for loyal Faye thought the Cotswold Hills the prettiest place in England. 

"They seem well-matched," Di thought as she turned her attention back to Marcus, and she stifled a laugh. The thought was so like Nan, who had the habit of marrying off all her friends during her idle time. Di wasn't a bit surprised when Sylvester asked Faye for a boat ride, and waved them off with a grin that told Faye she was in for a _lot_ of teasing later.

Marcus and Diana sat talking away under the maple. Persis joined them after awhile, having shaken off the admiring throng of Kingsport boys. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," commented Persis slyly as she sat down. "I just had a craving for one of Una's doughnuts… I know she packed some here… oh, there they are…. attempting to hide themselves under the napkins. Well, come out and face your fate, you plump little doughnut, and make this poor, starving girl very happy." 

Di couldn't help but to laugh at Persis' speech, as she chewed on a sugar-covered one with a blissful smile, while Marcus looked a bit bewildered. Di supposed Persis did take a little getting used to. 

"Don't you worry, I don't mean to play gooseberry between the two of you," Persis said, as she took another bite. "I'll just finish this doughnut and then I'll go amuse myself.  Where's Faye off to?"

"Oh, she's with Marcus' friend Sylvester," answered Di. "They took a boat ride in the lagoon."

"Oh, so the boy is interested in Faye?" asked Persis, her blue eyes lighting up with interest. "Is he handsome?"  

Di nodded, shooting a mischievous glance at Marcus. "Moderately so." 

"Intelligent?"

"He's at the top of his class," assured Marcus.

"Rich?"

"One of Kingsport's founding families," Marcus answered, beginning to smile.

"And so the student surpasses the master," announced Persis in satisfaction. 

Marcus and Di laughed. 

"If she can mesmerize Sylvester like that, then you did teach her well. Sylvester has always been popular with the women- he's used to them chasing him, not the other way around," commented Marcus.

Before Di could respond, Persis suddenly exclaimed, "Hey, isn't that Shirley?" She waved enthusiastically to a brown-haired boy coming up the hill.  He smiled in recognition and headed towards them with a dark-haired girl in tow.  

"It's been a long time, Shirley," Di said as he reached them. "But aren't you supposed to be at work? How did you find us here?" 

"Well, we took the day off from the bank. Prof. Jennings invited us to attend his lecture on International Trade Relations here at Kingsport." explained Shirley. "It's not supposed to start for two hours yet so I thought I'd drop by. Jerry told me that you'd be here."

Di introduced Marcus to Shirley, "Marcus is studying Medicine at Redmond. He's a classmate of Jem's – that's how we met. He's a football player too- did you know that his team has made the regional championship? Marcus is playing in the game next week- if they win, they go on to the Division cup." She felt slightly foolish as she ended her speech- she felt as if she had been reeling off a list of credentials. Even though Shirley was younger, he was still her brother and he and Jem always seemed to look askance at any of their sisters' male companions. 

Shirley seemed a little amused at Di's nervousness but the two shook hands companionably. Then it was Shirley's turn for introductions.

"This is Jasmine Tate," said Shirley, indicating the girl that hung back silently, yet seemed to be observing them with a certain cool-eyed interest. She was pretty in an exotic way, with golden-brown skin, long dark hair and almond-shaped dark eyes. Di noticed that Shirley was holding her hand, and that they sat close enough for their knees to be touching. They certainly seemed very familiar to each other. 

Shirley sat down rummaged through the picnic basket and took out a blueberry muffin. He carefully broke it in half, giving Jasmine a piece. "So what have you girls been up to? Any news from the Glen?  I've been so busy lately, I'm afraid I haven't written more than a few notes home."

"Well, Faith has returned to the Glen from London. She wrote last week that she decided to work with father as a nurse- she's well qualified with her VAD training. Bruce Meredith had a bout of fever but he's on the mend," informed Di. "Oh, and Susan's fudge won first prize at the Charlottetown Exhibition."

"I'm not surprised. I've tried all the bakeries in Kingsport but I've discovered that there's nothing quite like the Susan brand of fudge," declared Shirley. " It's been awhile since I've tasted some."

"If it's home cooking you want, then you really should stop by at the Bower soon. Una will fix you a delicious dinner – it's amazing how much she's improved in the past few months," said Persis.

"Especially since you're keeping her in constant practice," teased Di. 

"I do what I can to help my friends," responded Persis with a saucy grin. "Seriously Shirley, if Una keeps on, she would soon rival Susan in cookery. Her fruit puffs are perfection and I'd travel miles for her coffee cake. But perhaps you have some other place you're calling in now," Persis tacked on the last sentence archly, her blue eyes twinkling at Jasmine.

Shirley laughed good-naturedly, ignoring Persis' bid for an explanation, "I would love to come and see you girls more often but I'm afraid my internship has taken more time than I thought it would. Its very challenging work and I'm working with students at the top of their class… and most of them juniors and seniors. I have to work twice as hard just to keep up with them."

"He was the only freshman asked to join the program," spoke up Jasmine for the first time. "Prof. Jennings has always spoken highly of him."

Shirley shrugged off the compliment in his self-deprecating way. "I understand numbers, that's all. Where is Una?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject. He popped the last of the blueberry muffin in his mouth. "I must pay my compliments to the chef. With this kind of skill, she could open a bakery."

"But she'll be too busy being adored by her handsome husband and dimpled children by the dozen," protested Persis. "Una is a household goddess, presiding over hearth and home, not a businesswoman."

It wasn't long before Shirley and Jasmine left to take a walk around the park.

"She seems nice," commented Di as she watched them disappear down the path.

"A little too quiet for my taste," muttered Persis, looking thoughtfully after them.

"They would suit each other then," said Di with a shrug, for Shirley had always been the quiet one in the family.

"But I wonder if he really fancies her?" mused Persis. "We've only been in Redmond for a few months and it has always seemed to me that Shirley is not the kind of man to fall too quickly for any girl's charms."

"Why don't you go and find out?" suggested Di. "I'm pretty curious myself but Shirley would know pretty quickly what I was about, if I approached him now."

"Maybe I will," decided Persis. "I'll use my investigative powers on Shirley and get the facts on the situation. I'll be right back."

Persis followed the pair down the path, all the while thinking of a plan to get Shirley alone. They were quite a ways ahead but luckily, Jasmine had headed over to talk to a group of girls standing by the fountain at the crossways, leaving Shirley all to his lonesome.

Shirley had wandered off the path and was lying down on a patch of grass when Persis reached him. He didn't seem the least bit surprised to see her.   

"Let me guess," said Shirley with a little lopsided grin. "Di got curious about Jasmine but she thinks that I'm too good at evading sisterly questions, so she sent you over. Am I right?"

"Got it in one," responded Persis, lifting her eyebrows in surprise as she sat beside him. "Now Shirley, you are too polite to put me off, aren't you?"

Shirley sat up and placed a brotherly arm over her shoulder, "And do you know that I almost think of you as a sister?"

Persis laughed. "It's just a few questions, dear. I won't ask for your deepest, darkest secrets."

"I guess you can't help your reporter's instincts," conceded Shirley. "So what do you want to know?"

"So you and Jasmine are… what?"

"We're good friends - I'm very fond of Jasmine. She's a great girl," responded Shirley, lying back down on the grass looking up at the sky.

"How did you meet?"

"Jasmine's in my Economics class and the daughter of the bank president in Newbridge. She helps her father out in the afternoons, when she's not at Redmond. We usually eat lunch together, and sometimes Mr. Tate would ask me to drive her home in the afternoons." 

"So I suppose you won't be bringing her to the Glen anytime soon?" 

"Maybe, maybe not. We'll see," responded Shirley vaguely. "What about you, Persis? Nan has Jerry, and from all indications, Di fancies this Marcus fellow. Is there anyone special from the lovesick swains?"

"Oh, I don't know, Shirley. Maybe Mother was right in saying that I'm a perverse creature, but I'm just not interested in this brand of love and romance," commented Persis thoughtfully. "You know the kind… all the lovering down country lanes, the occasional dances, all ending in that walk in bridal white. And then down the aisle into that doorstep where aprons and baby diapers await. That's what Nan, Una and even Di all dream about. But I'm not sure if that's the kind of life I would like."

And Persis said this with a toss of her blond curls and a twist of her pretty mouth.

"I understand. It's not easy being the different one," said Shirley sympathetically. "Seems like everyone expects that all a woman would want to do in life is to get married and have children. So I suppose you aren't waiting for a prince in a white charger to come take you to his castle in Spain?"

"Heavens, no! Princes are heroic and noble… and good. They wouldn't suit me at all. I want someone with a little spice, someone a little wicked and interesting. Not that I'm looking for a man, you understand," amended Persis hastily. "I really don't want to get tied down to a family just yet. Sometimes Faye talks of all her travels to Europe and I dearly wish I could go too."

"Who's Faye?"

"Oh, she's a sweet girl- an art major from Redmond, who's staying at the Ashtons. We're very good chums.  She's from England and she's been most everywhere in the European continent. I'd love to tramp over Europe and see the sights and do all sorts of gay things before I settle down into the 'prunes and prisms' kind of life."

"Somehow, I can't imagine you as the sonsy, jolly housewife," remarked Shirley with a twinkle in his brown eyes, as if he was picturing it in his head. "Don't worry, Persis. I really doubt that you'll have a commonplace existence. Don't you meet plenty of interesting characters working for that magazine?"

"Mostly high society types, though I have come upon a few treasures," mused Persis.

Just then, Jasmine started beckoning to Shirley, having finished her conversation and in need of an escort.

"That's my cue to leave," said Persis cheerfully. "Now you won't tell anyone about this conversation, would you? I've never really told the other girls. They'll think I'm just being 'unconventional' Persis, that its just one of my moods." She paused and her tone was tinctured with doubt when she spoke again, "You don't think my views make me…. insensible, unwomanly?" 

Shirley looked at the crossways, where girls met and mingled like flocks of pretty birds and then at Persis, who seemed to him like a brilliant falcon- fiercely intelligent, ambitious and most of all, independent. "Not at all. You just want something different… actually, you _are _different from other girls… and what's wrong with that?" answered Shirley, meeting her uncertain blue eyes with calm brown ones. "Just go for what you want and never mind what others think."

Persis smiled in relief. She had never expected to have this conversation with Shirley, of all people, much less enjoy it. They had never been very close growing up… but there was something about him that seemed to invite confidence, quite similar to the charm that Una had. Though he was the most practical, sensible lad in the world, he had never seemed shocked at what she had to say.  Maybe it was his ability to accept anyone with equanimity.

"I have to go," Shirley said apologetically. "Jasmine and I still have a paper to work on before we go to the lecture. I told her that a breath of fresh air would do us good but now's the time to dig in."

"That's all right. I'll go back to Di and Marcus," said Persis as she stood up.

"I hope you'll have good things to report," remarked Shirley in parting. 

Persis laughed as she waved goodbye. Shirley was not fascinating, but he was a comfort, with a dry, understated sense of humor that Persis liked. 

Shirley slipped next Jasmine as they walked together down the winding path. 

"Why don't we work on our paper by the lagoon shore?" suggested Jasmine, as she slipped an arm over his. "I was thinking about our topic and how…" 

Shirley nodded absently, still thinking about his conversation with Persis. He had never thought before that Persis the pretty and popular, could have much in common with him, Shirley the staid and sober. In certain lights, they shone like black sheep in a flock of fleecy white. In a world where women were supposed to be quiet and demure, she was outspoken and audacious. And in a family of poets and idealists, he was plain-spoken and cynical. And both of them, Shirley suspected, were quite stubborn about proving themselves right, though she may hide the strength of her convictions under a facade of flippancy and his under a mask of detachment.

Shirley paid only half a mind as Jasmine put together a very cogent argument about the cons of Say's Law of Markets. Things were going very well for him. The internship was wearing because of the long hours but the actual work was easy. Shirley could not admit to Prof. Jennings that he actually found banking a bit tedious and would have preferred something more challenging. After all, he was something of a pet of the Professor and he knew he was fast rising to the top of his class.   

And there was Jasmine to think about. He was very fond of Jasmine. She was something of a matrimonial prize in Newbridge. She was pretty, clever and capable, and she came from a good family. She never chattered and gossiped like other girls, one of Shirley's pet peeves. True, she was rather lacking in imagination and tended to look at things in a prosy way but that was not necessarily a negative for Shirley. She knew as much as he did about commerce and other business matters. They got on well together and Jasmine's father approved of him. 

But more importantly, even though he wasn't quite sure what he felt for her, he knew that Jasmine really cared for him. 

All in all, Shirley liked being with Jasmine. It was, if nothing else, a comfortable relationship. 

Shirley wondered if this was what love was supposed to be like. His thoughts drifted to Persis' words and her ideas about romance, which both of them disliked, if for different reasons. They reminded him of Walter's sentiments- beautiful but unreal. Those thrilling emotions seemed entirely too fickle, too illusory, to be trusted. It was better to stay with what was safe than to get swept up with fanciful notions.

They walked down the path to the sloping bank of the lagoon, green with grass and dotted with pink and purple flowers. 

Shirley's eyes drifted towards the view- the clear blue sky stained with crimson and gold as the sun dipped down the horizon and the serene blue of the water, as if there were deeps that could never be stirred by the sleek rowboats that skimmed its surface like waterbugs. There was one that seemed to drift aimlessly near the shore. A girl in yellow dabbled her hand in the water, her fall of silvery hair gleaming in the fading afternoon light.     

"Shirley, what are you thinking of?" Jasmine's clipped voice asked in annoyance.

"I'm not thinking about anyone," he muttered, his eyes still trained on that boat. There was someone else with her- a dark haired man who leaned forward, giving him the impression of a hungry wolf looking at a treat.

"Come on, let's go uphill instead," Shirley said turning abruptly, his emotions vaguely ruffled in a way he couldn't explain.

**2**

"It's so strange to find such a pretty lagoon in the middle of the city," spoke Faye softly, dipping her fingers into the water and watching their reflections. 

"If you think this wondrous, then you should go to Rio de Janeiro, where they have entire beaches inside the city," remarked Sylvester nonchalantly. "Let me tell you about the time my friends and I spent all night at the beach during the Matumba ceremony on New Year's Eve…"

Faye listened with half a mind, letting his words wash over her. She could hardly believe that she was in this sweet little boat with Sylvester. He was so handsome with his blue-black hair, broad shoulders and smart black suit. As a law student, he was intelligent and delightfully eloquent, and he knew it. There was an air of careless confidence about him. From their conversation, he evidently knew half of the sophomore class in Redmond and the other half he implied was not worth knowing. 

"You live with the Ashtons' at Wild Magnolias, don't you?" asked Sylvester. 

"Yes, I do. My aunt is a good friend of Mrs. Ashton,"

"You don't mind if I call tomorrow?"

"Not at all," answered Faye. 

When he spoke like that, with his silvery-blue eyes trained on her so intensely and his tone suggestive of future plans, Faye could feel her cheeks blush a rosy red. She turned slightly, trying in vain to conceal her maidenly flush.

Her gaze turned towards the shore, which was empty save a dark-haired lad, standing very close to a girl with long dark hair. Faye had the strange sensation that he was looking at her. Did she know him?

"Faye?"

She watched as the boy turned away, the girl following with her long hair swinging in the breeze. Faye frowned, though she couldn't have explained why this scene bothered her.

"Faye," Faye felt Sylvester's cool hand under her chin, gently guiding her face back into his blue eyed gaze. "Now what could be so fascinating there? Have you lost interest in me already?" His voice was lightly teasing, but there was a subtle hardening in his blue eyes.

"Sorry, Syl. I was just daydreaming."


	8. The Advent of Daniel

**Chapter 8: The Advent of Daniel**

**1**

"Girls, girls! Guess what?" Faye exclaimed as she rushed into Una's garret, waving a letter in the air. Persis was proofreading her article for that week and Nan and Una were writing letters but all three looked up at Faye's unusual entrance.  Di had never seen her so excited. "Daniel will be coming over to visit this Sunday!"

"This is Daniel, your cousin?" asked Di, closing the book she was reading. 

"Yes, it is and he is the wonderful boy in the world- save Sylvester, perhaps," Faye said after a pause. "He was the one who convinced Grandma to let me come here to study. I am so excited! I haven't seen him since his last visit to Opal Crest and that was months ago. But now, he's taking a temporary position as a music teacher at Edgewood, so he'll be staying at Kingsport until the Christmas vacation. I can't wait for all of you to meet him!"

"Slow down, Faye!" said Nan laughingly. "I suppose he is the Daniel Starke who'll be substituting for Mrs. Mead. I didn't realize that he was your cousin. What is he like anyhow?"

"Oh, he's a dear fellow but I don't see enough of him. I've only met him twice before, you know," said Faye with a little sigh.

"I suppose it was very expensive for his family to come all the way to England for visits," commented Una sympathetically.

"No, it wasn't just the distance. It's a sad story, actually. Our families- mine and Daniel's- were estranged most of our lives."

"Why, what happened?" asked Nan, ever curious about what seemed to be a romantic tale.  

"I only know bits and pieces from what mother told me- Grandma Miriam didn't like to talk about it. You see, Grandma Miriam was actually the second wife of grandpa, Christian Starke. His first wife was named Katharine Stoddard. Grandpa Christian and Katharine were terribly in love and even though his parents didn't approve of the relationship, he married her anyway. 

"But their happiness didn't last. I never found out what went wrong in their marriage- Mother didn't know and the maids and everyone else who worked in Opal Crest didn't like to talk about it. Juno, our gardener, just said that Grandpa was young and wild, and that he should have waited to get married. And then one night, they had a terrible argument and the next day, Katharine left and took their son, Thaddeus- he's Daniel's father- with her. 

"Grandfather spent years searching for Katharine and his child but he never found them.  He didn't know that she had family in Canada and since his parents never cared for Katharine, they just pressured him into giving her up and marrying again. 

"So Grandpa married Grandma Miriam… but Juno, our gardener, said that he never forgot Katharine and his son. He kept pictures of them at the mantelpiece in the parlour- that's how I found out that Mother actually had a half-brother, though they've never met. They never did get the chance to because Mother died years before Daniel and I set eyes on each other."

"How terrible," Nan remarked, looking a little teary-eyed. "For a brother and sister to go through life without ever knowing each other! But how did you and Daniel meet?"

"Daniel spent a summer in England because his sister was marrying an Englishman- his whole family was there for the wedding. It was the first time Uncle Thaddeus had returned to England since he left more than forty years ago. Daniel told me that his father didn't remember much about Grandpa... and it seemed that he didn't want to know much about his past. They visited Grandpa's grave in the cemetery and then all of them, except Daniel, returned to Canada. 

"But Daniel was very curious about his father's past. He still had weeks left of his summer vacation before he had to return to Vienna to study music so he did a little investigating and found out that Grandpa had remarried. He wanted to get to know his relations in England so he hunted up Opal Crest.

I'll never forget how shocked I was when he turned up at our doorstep. All of a sudden, there was this tall lad who was announcing that he was a Starke and my cousin!" 

"The boy had spunk!" remarked Persis admiringly. "And then what happened?"

"Well, I had no idea what to do next! Sandoval, our butler, and Estelle just kept staring at him as if they'd seen a ghost. Then Juno happened along and took one look at him, and said that he believed Daniel. He said that Daniel looked so like Grandpa Christian. So the three of us went to the parlour and Daniel just told me everything he knew. I was so happy to find out that I had cousins and an Aunt and Uncle, even if they did live an ocean away! 

Of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing from there. Grandma Miriam didn't like Daniel- she hated to be reminded of Grandpa's first marriage. And besides, when Grandpa died, he willed for a sizable sum to go to Katharine's son and his family, should any of them be found. At first, Grams wouldn't even let him in the gates of Opal Crest."

"But didn't you say that it was Daniel who convinced your Grandma to let you study in Redmond?" interjected Di. "How did Daniel win your Grandma over?"

"Oh, Daniel could be very persistent when he puts his mind to it. He sent a gift to Opal Crest every single day for three weeks- bouquets of flowers and curios, and he would pin pictures and little notes telling all about his family. Grandma warmed up to him eventually, she couldn't help liking him. 

"We spent a lot of time together that summer. Daniel wanted me to visit his family in Canada… but then the war broke out. He sent me a few letters over the years but we only saw each other again last summer and that was when he talked Grandma over and persuaded her to let me come here. 

"And Daniel has talked about my staying over at his parent's house in the summer. He thinks that having his father meet me would help him put the ghosts of the past to rest. I have a feeling that Uncle Thaddeus may feel very bitter towards Grandpa though I don't know the reasons. But that's not for awhile yet…I'm just glad he's coming to Kingsport for a good long spell."

"Oh, to be part of such a dramatic family saga – why it's just like a story!" commented a starry-eyed Nan, looking much impressed. "Doesn't Daniel sound like the ideal hero?"

"Oh, he's been my hero for years and he's the best friend I have, next to you girls," said Faye emphatically.

"Better not let Sylvester hear you say that," warned Persis, shaking a finger at Faye mockingly. "I don't think he would appreciate the competition."

Faye pretended not to be hurt by this statement. It had been nearly three weeks since the picnic and Faye's relationship with Sylvester had prospered finely. They met up at Redmond frequently and he would walk her to her classes and occasionally drive her home. He had called several times at the Ashtons' and once at the Bower. Faye thought him sweet and attentive, certainly very gallant, but he _was_ a tad possessive. Persis did not approve of him and said so. 

"The view must be very nice from that car," Persis had remarked one night, looking at Sylvester's sleek silver Cadillac as he drove off. "But a gilded cage is still a cage, I think."  

"Well, I like the view from within his arms," Faye had protested. "And I'd rather stay in my gilded cage with Syl than flying free by myself."

But quite aside Persis' objections, Faye was enjoying what she considered her first wooing, spending her idle hours in daydreams involving Sylvester, who seemed like her Prince Charming come at last.

"Oh Una, you must help me cook a meal for my Danny," implored Faye, kneeling by Una's seat. "I am going to welcome him with _such_ a feast. I have the menu list right here."

"Well, let's have a look at it then," said Una agreeably. She reviewed it for a few minutes, "The food's rather fancy," she commented slowly.

"Mayn't we try it first, Una?" pleaded Faye. 

Una kindly set aside the next few afternoons for cooking lessons, though she had her doubts that Faye would be able to master such difficult recipes as she had chosen in so short a time. Nature was in agreement for gastronomy was not one of Faye's skills and the teaching was slow going. 

 "I never really learned how to cook," remarked Faye one night, as she mixed batter for her coconut custard pie. "Grams didn't even want me in the kitchen. The only pie I ever created was made out of mud."

Faye's first trial supper was much anticipated, though when presented, the fare looked less than appetizing. The salad was the most passable article in the table, for Faye had learned that much from Una's tutelage. But the chicken cutlets were undercooked, the potatoes lumpy, the pie rather flat. A dried and blackened lasagna was missing from the table. Faye had forgotten to add the milk and seeing the results, quickly decided that they could do without it. It sat forlornly at the kitchen counter, accompanying the motley collection of floury handprints, potato skins, eggshells and the remains of a tomato  

"Is Jem on call? We might need a doctor under this meal," murmured Persis, as one article after another appeared on the dinner table.  

Nan elbowed Persis, though a smile persisted in hovering around Nan's lips. Di kept her dancing gray-green eyes on her plate. Even Una was hard-pressed to contain her merriment.

"Well, what do you girls think?" asked Faye eagerly as the food was passed around and the girls had helped themselves to tiny portions of each. 

As usual, Persis was the first to comment. "Faye, do you want me to give you an honest review or soothe your tired ego with a lie?"

Faye looked mournfully at the food in her plate. "The lie, please."

"It's fabulous!"

They all broke up laughing and Faye whipped out an apple pie and a carton of vanilla ice cream. "I had a presentiment that my first efforts might be less than fantastic," she said sheepishly. Nan and Una jumped up to clear the offending articles from the table. 

After that experiment, Una managed to convince Faye to settle for simpler fare. It was a testament to Una's talent that by the end of the week, Faye could cook a delicious baked chicken and apple pie. Di also promised to prepare her special cream-of-onion soup for the occasion.

Mrs. Ashton was also very supportive of Faye's efforts and even volunteered her kitchen for the event. She was very curious to meet the son of her dear friend, Elizabeth, who was Daniel's mother.  

"It seemed just yesterday that Elizabeth and I were practicing recitations for a concert at boarding school and now I'll be meeting her son, who's going to be a schoolteacher," she shook her head, her eyes dreamy with reminisces.

The day of Daniel's arrival dawned bright and sunny for November. Faye was adither with excitement and could barely concentrate on her classes. She rushed home, put on her apron and started banging pots and pans in her hurry to have dinner ready.

"He said he would be here by seven," commented Faye as she put the tray of chicken in the oven at a quarter to six. While it baked, she vibrated nervously from kitchen to parlour window until Diana laughingly banished her to the kitchen to start on the fruit salad.

Unaccountably, Daniel arrived early. With Faye was busy in the kitchen and Miss Pickford in bed with a cold, only Diana was on hand to receive him.

"Good evening. You must be Miss Blythe," came the cheery greeting from the tall young man. "I'm Daniel Starke, Faye's cousin."       

"You're right. I'm Diana, the Ashtons' governess and a friend of Faye," said Di, offering a slender white hand.  He took out a nice gloved hand and shook hers heartily. He was very well-dressed in a white linen shirt and polished boots, but despite that, there was a casual, comfortable air about him. His golden hair was long, flowing in tousled waves over his eyes and brushing his broad shoulders. 

It was his eyes though, that caught Diana's attention. They were a liquid amber that sparkled with infinitesimal specks of light, and shone with such open friendliness that Di couldn't help but respond to the smile in them.  

"Do come in," said Di. She led him to the parlour, which the maids had swept and dusted in anticipation of the visitor.  A fire was crackling merrily in the hearth, the curtains drawn to display the beautiful grounds and wall sconces flooded the room in with a golden light.

Daniel sat down on the silk-upholstered armchair, unfolding his long lean form and looking immediately at home in it. "So where is the little imp?" 

"In the kitchen, cooking dinner for you."

"Thank you for the warning. I guess I'll be going now," he said, half-starting out of his chair in mock-alarm.

Di laughed. "Oh don't worry. She's been taking lessons and now her cooking is somewhat edible."

"I heard that!" Faye entered the room, her cheeks pink with excitement and from bending over the oven. She ran over to Daniel and he wrapped her in a hug so exuberant that it lifted her clean off her feet. 

"It's so good to see you again, my Danny!" 

"Ditto, ditto, Faery," he responded. He set her down and surveyed her critically. "You look wonderful. Life here at Redmond agrees with you. I can't wait to meet all your friends."

"You've already met one of them," said Faye, with a warm smile for Di. "Now, the fruit salad is almost ready and Cook is setting the table. In the meantime, you two stay here and get acquainted," she commanded, adjusting her apron which was askew due to Daniel's enthusiastic greeting.

"I hope I'm not keeping you from your duties, Miss Blythe," said Daniel as Faye walked out of the parlour. 

"Please call me Di," said Di with a blush. "So I hear that you're teaching at Edgewood High School. My twin sister Nan works there also."

"So there are actually two of you red-haired beauties running around in Kingsport?" asked Daniel, those golden eyes twinkling. Di had barely recovered from her first blush but she could already feel her cheeks getting hot again.  

"But you mustn't mind my nonsense," he followed quickly, mistaking her silence for offense. "Everyone says I'm an outrageous flirt. I can't help myself- it's in the blood, I think. I blame my parents- my mother, particularly. She was quite a belle in her youth."

"Oh, it's alright. I've had plenty of practice dealing with nonsense," replied Di, recovering her powers of speech. Somehow he made her flash on Persis. Then suddenly realizing that he might have been offended, she stammered awkwardly, "I mean-"

But Daniel only laughed. "Now you're thinking that I might be offended? I'm afraid sensitivity isn't one of my virtues. But I'm glad you've had practice with bibble-babble for I contain multitudes of that. But if you need peace and quiet, you just tell me straight and I'll be as silent as the Sphinx."

"Oh, I don't mind at all," said Di, much relieved. "But Nan and I don't look the least bit alike – she has brown hair and hazel eyes," continued Di, not without a little inward repining for Nan's sleek, silky brown tresses compared to her ruddy waves. "She's teaching Canadian History and English. Faye told me that you'll be teaching music?" 

"That's right. Music is one of my passions- I couldn't live without it. So when I heard that Mrs. Mead was taking a leave of absence, I jumped at the chance to become a music teacher here," said Daniel, jumping up and examining the paintings on the wall with what Di was to learn as characteristic restless energy. "Not to mention the fact that I've missed Kingsport. Blue Pearl is wonderful but once in a while, one longs for the crush and buzz of the city. What about you? How's life as the Ashtons' governess?"

"Well, we've had our ups and downs," said Di, thinking particularly of Alma, who she still had not learned to like. "But mostly, it's been so much fun that it barely feels like work at all. There's always something new and interesting to work on– last week, it was all about Halloween. We made jack-o-lanterns and I helped the children create their costume for trick or treating." 

"I'd love to meet the Ashton children," exclaimed Daniel, pausing at the family portrait displayed prominently over the marble fireplace. "The last time Aunt Mara visited us in Blue Pearl, she brought Alma with her. She was only three then, and a sweeter child there never was. Everyone adored her. I wonder how she is? She must be fifteen by now."

Faye calling them to the dinner table saved Di from answering that question. 

The formal dining room had been similarly prepared for Daniel's arrival. The fine china was out, as well as the collection of fine silver spoons and crystal goblets that reflected the light from the glittering. The children had eaten their supper earlier so only four places were set for Faye, Di, Mrs. Ashton and Daniel. 

Mrs. Ashton stood up at Di and Daniel's entrance.

"Is that you, Daniel?" exclaimed Mrs. Ashton in astonishment as she looked up at the tall lad standing in front of her. "My, but you've grown so!" 

"Well, it has been years, Aunt Mara, and children are apt to do that. Such a pity," answered Daniel with an irreverent grin. "It's wonderful to finally see you again, Aunty."

"Why don't you sit down beside me, Daniel, and we'll get started right away. You must be starving after the long train ride."

"Even if I wasn't Aunty, I'd assure you that no one could possibly resist this feast. Oh and I almost forgot…I'll be only a minute," Daniel rushed out of the room and returned minutes later with two bottles of red wine. "Mother sends her regards. It's the best from our vineyards."

"Thank you, Daniel. Why don't you pour everyone a glass? And now we can begin."

Dinner was an unqualified success. Faye had skillfully adorned the table with Wild Magnolias best blooms. The food was delicious- the chicken was golden and tender, Di's soup wonderfully light and the desserts a fest for the eye as well as the palate. Faye, in a pretty cream-and-pink print dress, beamed with pride as compliments rained on her from all sides. 

The four of them chattered gaily as they ate for Daniel had a genius for conversation and had that enviable skill of being at home with anyone and anywhere. He spoke freely about his experiences studying music in Vienna, asked questions about the Ashton children and Faye's studies. Di and Faye responded in kind, and even Mrs. Ashton became unusually loquacious, regaling them with stories of her escapades with Elizabeth, Daniel's mother and all her memories of Daniel when he was a child.

"I'm actually surprised that you didn't stay in Europe to continue your music studies," commented Mrs. Ashton as she sipped her wine. "It pleased Elizabeth so to have a child who shared her love of music. But I suppose you couldn't very well return to Vienna." 

"The road goes ever on but I've learned that there's no place quite like Canada," answered Daniel lightly, with a smile that tried hard to be easy and casual. "I miss my family and there are plenty of opportunities for me here too. Although I'd expect that I might return to Europe someday – with my father, hopefully." He shared a glance with Faye, who smiled and squeezed his hand. She knew what this hope was, for it was hers as well.

"You always did like to move about, Daniel. Why, I remember the last time I saw you, you were a sunburned, barefooted lad, wandering about the hills of your father's vineyard, with a walking stick and a little rucksack, pretending to be a traveler from 'foreign parts'. Elizabeth told me that you always drew a long tale after your long walks, talking about the 'Green Man' or some such thing." 

"Oh Aunt Mara, all children must have their little escapades. Life just isn't complete without a voyage to the Land-of-Wishes," said Daniel good-naturedly. "But the Green Man wasn't just a story, although I suppose grown-ups can't be expected to believe in him."

Dinner went by very fast and soon, Daniel had return to his flat. Before he left, Daniel brought out more gifts – a lovely illuminated text of an old fairy tale for Faye and to Di's surprise, a carved sandalwood box lined with red velvet for her.

"Thank you so much, Danny!" said Faye, hugging the book to her chest. "Oh, I wish you didn't have to work and I didn't have to go to class tomorrow! I feel like I haven't gotten quite enough of you yet."

"I feel the same way. The evening has really flown by," commented Daniel as  "But we have several weeks together yet. Perhaps I can stop by when school lets out, if you don't mind my coming over again, Aunt Mara?"

"Of course I don't mind, Daniel. Do come and visit us often," said Mrs. Ashton warmly as they saw him off. "You'll always be welcome here."

"Thank you, Aunt Mara, I certainly will," responded Daniel. 

****

**2**

That visit came the very next day. Daniel conducted his classes in the morning and that left plenty of time for his to call at the Ashtons' afterwards. He drove Faye to Redmond and promised to stop by after lunch. 

Both Di and Faye were looking forward to seeing him. Unfortunately, Faye called at around lunch time, saying that she had a paper to write for her World Literature class and would be leaving for Redmond later than usual. Daniel would be at the Ashtons' any minute now. Would she mind entertaining him for a bit?

Di assured her that she it was no problem at all- in fact, she thought that she could really use the diversion from Alma.  A bad cold kept had kept her home from school, something that was no great loss to the fun-loving Alma. However, it also prevented her from attending a much awaited party later that evening, a fact that turned her mood inky black. She had been snappish at the breakfast table and lunch today was a silent affair. No one wanted to say anything that might set her off.  

Yes, a little cheerful company would be _very_ welcome.  

As Di returned the phone to its cradle, she heard Grace calling her from the dining room, where the four Ashton children were finishing their lunch.   

"Aunty Di? I zacksidentally spilled my glass of apple juice." 

"That's all right, Grace. We'll just wipe it up, quick as wink," exclaimed Di. She was just about to return to the dining room when the she heard a knock at the door.

"I'll be there in a minute, Grace," Di said as she hurried to answer it. It was Daniel, smiling and impeccably dressed in well-pressed linens. He had a box of chocolates on one hand. At the same time, Grace had hurried out of the kitchen, sniffling. 

"Is something wrong?" Daniel asked without preamble as he closed the door behind him. Grace was clinging to Di now, burying her face in Di's skirts. 

"Alma got real mad 'cause she got some juice on her sleeve cuffs. She called me a baby," said Grace, sniffling. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie," said Di soothingly, stroking Grace's hair. "You know that Alma's not feeling very well so she's a little peevish." Though Di did have a few choice words to say to Alma later.

"It was just a little spill," Grace continued, her lower lip still trembling. 

To Di's surprise, Daniel knelt down, took out his handkerchief and wiped Grace's streaked face with it. "And I'm sure it only made a tiny little stain, like this…" He pointed at a tiny speck of dust on one of his pearl white gloves and wiped it off  "…and that'll come right out in the wash so don't you worry your pretty little head over it."

"Really?" 

"Absolutely," exclaimed Daniel vehemently. Then with an enchanting smile, he said, "You've got pretty eyes, child, but I think I like them better without tears. That's better." Grace had stopped sniffling by now and was staring at Daniel with curious brown eyes. "What's your name?"

Grace gave him her shy smile and answered, "Mommy told me never to talk to strangers."

Daniel laughed at the frank statement. "And she's right. But if I introduce myself then I won't be a stranger now, will I? I'm Daniel Starke and I'm Faye's cousin."

"I'm Grace Ashton."

"Splendid. Now, as I don't ever want to be accused of being a stranger in this house again, why don't we get acquainted? Do you think Flopsy would like me for a friend too?"

"Oh yes, Flopsy would really like that!" Slipping a hand companionably into his, Grace tugged him into the playroom. Di followed after them, feeling a bit superfluous but not really minding. It pleased her that Daniel was so comfortable with children. Di had worried a little about how to entertain Daniel while she was teaching the Ashtons.

"I hope you didn't mind me stepping in like that," Daniel whispered to Di as they reached the playroom. "But I just can't stand to see a child cry. Faye's told me a little bit about the Ashtons so I think I can take care of Grace while you help May and Aaron with their lessons. May I?"

"Oh you needn't do that. You must be tired after a long day's work. You could go and relax in the library…" exclaimed Di but Daniel waved off her suggestions. 

"It's the least I can do to repay Aunt Mara's kindness to me and Faye. And I get on very well with children, if I do say so myself."

"Well, I'll call May and Aaron and introduce you to them," said Di.

It seemed that Daniel's assessment was right. Children seemed to take to him as ducks do to water. Daniel delighted Aaron by giving him piggyback rides around the house during a study break, pretending that they were a knight and his noble steed, traveling through the forests of Camelot. May was equally charmed by his attentions- she blushed furiously when he offered her a handful of chocolate bonbons.

After an hour of lessons, they all moved to the music room for May's weekly piano practice. 

Daniel stared at the sleek grand piano with a sort of rapture. "What a beautiful instrument," he said, pressing the keys almost reverentially.  

"Play something for us, Daniel," urged May. "Mama told us that you love music."

"Well… all right," said Daniel slowly. For someone who professed to love music, he seemed reluctant to play, which struck Di as rather odd. She had never thought Daniel as shy, on the contrary, she had expected him to be something of a showman.

He sat down, positioned his hands carefully over the black and white keys, then hesitated. Diana thought that Daniel looked almost tense. 

"You needn't play if you don't want to, Daniel," whispered Di. 

But Daniel did not even seem to hear her. He began with an almost tentative touch, as if finding his way around something unfamiliar, then gradually his fingers lost their stiffness and started their dance. They tripped along the keys with a natural grace of a gifted musician. He wasn't even looking at May's sheet music, but playing something of his own composition, a light and playful tune that had all of them humming along. It was some of the prettiest music that she had ever heard, somehow reminiscent of   birdsong and wind chimes.        

When the song ended, they all clapped enthusiastically. 

"Where did you learn to play like that?" asked a wide-eyed May.

"My mother loved music and we had a beat-up old piano at my house. When I was small, I used to pull myself up the bench and just bang away until Mother came to rescue the piano. I wouldn't let up though, until Mother took pity on me and taught me to play," Daniel answered, tapping the keys lightly. Then he moved over and tapped the space next to him. "Now, I want to hear you play. Oh no, no shirking. I've done my part and now you must do yours."

"I'm not very good," said May meekly. 

"Don't you worry about that. We'll just keep plugging away until you know the music by heart," assured Daniel as he chose the song for May. "Won't your Mr. Carroll be surprised when you play this for him."

With Daniel's encouragement, May started practicing with more skill and enthusiasm than Di had ever seen before. Even piano practice with Mr. Carroll became a livelier affair. Daniel proposed to have a marching band to accompany May's music and the idea was quickly accepted. He dug out and patched up old instruments from the toy trunk.  

Daniel handed Diana the tambourine that had been part of May's gypsy costume.

"I've never heard of a red-haired gypsy," protested Di with a smile.

"Well, I have heard of really beautiful ones so you'll play the part just fine," teased Daniel.

DI hid her furious blush under guise of examining a broken recorder. Grace wielded the colorful castanets, Aaron the toy trumpet and Daniel the harmonica. The four of them marched around the piano with such goodwill that even Mr. Carroll joined in as conductor. 

After May's music lessons, they trooped into the kitchen, hungry after their revels. As if prepared for such an occurrence, Cook had set out more than the usual afternoon feast. There was lemonade in an ice-cold pitcher, ham-and-cheese sandwiches, a bowl of fruit salad and a very fragrant cherry pie. 

Alma was in the kitchen, picking at her salad with a disgruntled face that announced to all and sundry that she did not want to be here. That frowning expression did not change with the appearance of Diana and company – until she saw Daniel.  

The transformation that came over Alma would have amused Di at any other time but it irritated her today. Alma sat up, her brown eyes sparkling and a smile swept over her face.

"Oh, I didn't know we were having guests," she remarked demurely.

"Oh but I'm not a guest and I wouldn't have you treat me so," protested Daniel, smiling in his affable way. "I'm Daniel Starke."

"Oh, you're Aunt Elizabeth's son! It seems like ages since we've last seen each other." Alma pulled out the chair beside her invitingly. "So what brings you to Kingsport?"

There was no getting Daniel out of her clutches then. Di watched as Alma shrugged off her sulky pose in a matter of seconds as she struck a cheerful conversation about music with Daniel.

"Why don't we take our snack outside at Wild Magnolias?" suggested Di as she looked out the kitchen window. The weather was fair for November and Di thought a little fresh air would rid her of this peevish feeling.

"Oh, I'll go with you. Food always tastes better out of doors," said Daniel. "Are you coming with us, Alma?"

"Of course! I love the outdoors," exclaimed Alma with alacrity. "There's nothing quite like communing with nature."

Di suppressed a frown with difficulty. Alma had never joined them in anything and as far as Di could remember, the one time she had invited Alma for a romp outside she had refused because her dress would get dirty. 

They packed up the food and set off. Diana was already feeling better. Grace had said, "I want up!" and Daniel had gamely let her ride on his broad shoulders, to Alma's immense irritation. Furthermore, Faye joined them at Wild Magnolias a little later and Alma subsided into relative harmlessness. She could not deny that Faye and Daniel were very close, and she knew she could not afford to antagonize Faye if she were to stay in Daniel's good graces. 

Di couldn't help but laugh at the surprised expression on Faye's face when Alma paid her a compliment on her new dress but she caught on quickly.  

"Why don't you play tag with us, Alma?" asked Faye, with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Let's have Daniel and Di rest for awhile- they've been working all day."

"Yes Alma, come and play with us!" called Aaron, still rather excited at the novelty of having his biggest sister – as he called Alma – joining them.

Alma glanced at Daniel, who nodded approvingly. She agreed with a sickly smile.

"It would be good for you to get some fresh air and exercise," commented Daniel. "Don't let us stop you from communing with nature." 

Daniel said that with a wink and a shrewd grin, which relieved Di somewhat. 

The game didn't last long. Alma got a miniscule grass stain on her skirt and, fussing as if her dress had been irreparably ruined, she went inside to change. Di also went inside with the children to continue their lessons while Faye and Daniel stayed at Wild Magnolias for a cozy, confidential chat.

The sky was a tapestry of sunset colors when Di stepped out to say goodbye to them both but Faye forestalled her, saying, "I've asked Daniel to walk you to the Bower. He'll be company for you since I can't come to dinner tonight. I have some French exercises to finish. Just say hello to the girls for me, would you?"

Di agreed and after saying goodbye to the children, the two of them set off for the Bower. Daniel seemed to have boundless reserves of energy. He chattered gaily even as he loped off with long strides that had Di almost running to keep up until he slowed his pace to march hers. He convulsed her with descriptions of his students and fellow teachers at the Edgewood School. In between his cheerful sallies, Di managed to tell him about her family and the Glen folks and soon, the two were exchanging stories from the annals of their childhood. 

She told him all about the Manse folks, lovely Avonlea and of course, Rainbow Valley with its enchanted elfin bells, the Tree Lovers and the White Lady. She skirted the issue of Walter though, feeling that this was a topic too sensitive to be discussed even on a pleasant walk with charming young men.

Daniel told her all about his home in Blue Pearl Cove, his father's winery and the green hills behind his home that had been his special refuge.

"We called those hills Mount Olympus," said Daniel, taking a deep breath. There was a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was imagining himself there once again. "It was our sanctuary- me and my brothers and sisters, my cousins- the Morrows, and the Harpers and… oh there was just a regular gang of us. In the summers, we'd run out the door after breakfast and roamed about all day free as the gods of old," Then he turned back to Di with a grin, "I used to gorge myself on berries and wild grapes until I was too full to eat dinner. How Mother would scold!" 

Di laughed and they turned down the main road and down winding Nightingale Lane. They were silent for a moment, enjoying the magic of the purple twilight and the first stars of the evening, peeking and blinking shyly from the leafy canopy. 

"You know, I can't get over how much Faye has changed," Daniel said suddenly. "When I first met her, she was as quiet and as meek as a fawn. You know why I called her faery? Because she used to stay out at the garden for hours by herself, hidden among the groves, and so silent that it took me some time to hunt her out. 

"And now I hardly recognize her, she's bubbling over with mirth and twice the mischief-maker! And her laughter… back at Opal Crest, she hardly ever laughed. "

"Well, I can't take all the credit for it," protested Di. "She's told me so much about what you've done for her."

"I may have cracked the shell but you broke it wide open," remarked Daniel. His eyes glimmered like liquid gold in the fading light, and his voice was softer than usual as he continued, "I don't think Faye realizes how much I worried over her these past few months. I was responsible for her coming, you know- I was the one who convinced her Grandmother to let her go to college here. I was the one who arranged for her to stay at the Ashtons'. I was so afraid she might have trouble adjusting to Redmond after the seclusion of Opal Crest. That's partly why I was so eager to work here in Kingsport- so that I could watch over her, even for a little while. But now I know I needn't worry so much."  

He smiled at her and Di felt a funny, quick little ache in her heart. There was something in the tenor of his voice… in that _look_ in his eyes… that awakened a longing in her, long asleep, but suddenly shaken from stillness. She never thought that she would envy Faye anything… but as different as those golden eyes were from the gray, they had suddenly put to mind a brotherly affection that she missed very badly.

"Di, did I say something…?"

Di tried to push thoughts of Walter away by saying quite quickly, "There's the Rosebud Bower. Now it doesn't look like it but the lawn is just the bloomiest place. Such roses! We'll have lovely flowers in the spring," she chattered, skipping up the path to the front door. Daniel followed with a slightly baffled expression.  

"Won't you come in for a little while?" Di asked, as she unlocked the door.   

"I'm afraid I can't," Daniel answered with an apologetic shrug, stopping at their front stoop. "My landlady congratulated me for having the neatest room in the house, but that's because I've hardly unpacked anything. I'd better get started. And I still have my lesson plans for tomorrow." 

"That's too bad. I was hoping you could stay awhile and meet my sister."

"Oh, I'm sure I will, very soon. You can't get rid of me that easily. Faye's going to show me some of her sketches tomorrow and then we're going to take a long walk around Kingsport. Why don't you join us?" he asked, as if the thought had suddenly occurred to him. "I don't mean to hog Faye but I do want to see as much of her as I can while I'm here. So you'll have to put up with my company for quite a while yet." 

"Oh, you needn't worry about that. You have as much right to her time as I do."

"Nonsense, we both want you there. Now, I won't take no for an answer," he declared in mock command, his eyes twinkling. "We'll drop by that park Faye is always writing about. And then, like the proper gentleman that I am, I'll see you home again."  

"That would be wonderful," said Di, feeling an odd sense of relief at being included.   

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Good night, Ms. Blythe." 

He left her with a wave and a warm smile. Di watched him stride down the path, plucking a blossom from a tree and jumping the fence like a boy. There was something about his energy and enthusiasm that made her spirits lift in spite of herself. 

"Is that you, Di?" called Nan, as she entered the living room. "I'm sorry but I didn't hear you come in. What are you looking at over there?" 

She joined Di by the window. 

"Is that Daniel Starke?" she asked, as they watched Daniel disappear down Nightingale Lane. "I got a glimpse of him this morning when the headmaster introduced him to all the teachers in Edgewood. Handsome fellow, isn't he? But what was he doing here?"

"Faye asked him to walk me home," answered Di. "He's a very nice young man," she continued, as she pulled the curtain shut and followed Nan into the kitchen. 

Yes, he _was_ a very nice young man, reflected Di as she thought about the promised walk tomorrow. She found that she could 'put up with his company' quite easily. 

In fact, she was already looking forward to it.


	9. Two Nice Young Gentlemen

Chapter 9:  Two Nice Young Men 

**1**

As promised, Daniel called on the Ashtons' again, this time helping May with her mathematics as they waited for Faye to return from Redmond. 

When she did, the three of them walked companionably through Wild Magnolias and then down Spofford Avenue. Faye loved to look at the houses down there. Houses old and new, with dressed stone walls or brick, with towers and turrets and gables galore. She liked the fashionable mansions there best; all gleaming paint and sparkling glass, as proudly poised as a diamond.  Di wasn't sure that she liked them so much – they were too white and too new somehow.

"Nan and I love old houses- houses that have a history. Some houses are built and these are very handsome, but they don't have the air of having lived," Diana commented thoughtfully, as they paused before a low spreading house built in the latest bungalow style.

"Houses are like people," commented Daniel. "Fashionable people don't really live- they're too busy looking about to see their looks stack up to everyone else to have any charm about them. And they all seem to scream that everything about them have to be 'just so'. I like a little mess once in a while- just some little sign of human habitation."

"What do you like best about your house?" asked Di. "I love the Ingleside kitchen, so sunny with its lovely smells, and our warm hearth with Gog and Magog standing guard. And I know that Nan loves our garden and all the trees out in the lawn."

"What I like best about Cloud Aerie…" answered Daniel slowly. "…are the windows. There are lots of them all over the house… so that the house is flooded with light, golden in the day and then silver at night. Its almost like being outside all the time."

"I love the mist and woods… and the sunset and stars out in our garden," Faye said rather wistfully. Cold and lonely as it had been, there was still no place quite like Opal Crest, with its veil of by mist, hill and wood, remote even in her most beautiful moods. 

Daniel squeezed her hand, "You'll be back almost before you know it, dear. I wish you could spend Christmas here but I suppose Grandma would like to see you."

"Now, I've got something to show you both," exclaimed Di as they approached the end of Spofford Avenue. There was a little white frame house nestled in the arms of a grove of pines, with green shutters that embraced by coils of vines. "There's Patty's Place! Isn't it the dearest little thing? Mother stayed there while she was studying in Redmond."

"Oh its lovely," breathed Faye, her eyes fixed on the tiny garden with its low moss covered stone wall. "I like it almost as much as the Bower."

After Spofford Avenue, they stopped by St. Francis Park, which Daniel liked extremely. "A place where one can stretch one's legs and breathe free air," he commented with a contented sigh.

After buying ice cream cones from a vendor, they took a walk along the lake shore to watch the sunset. 

"Where will you be having dinner tonight, Danny?" asked Faye, as they walked down Nightingale Lane. "Alone at your boarding house again?"

"I suppose I can hustle up a sandwich in my room," said Daniel with a shrug. "I'm afraid the cook at my boarding house is nowhere near as good as yours- she's allergic to bending over the oven because of her _rheumatiz_."

He then proceeded to convulse them with a description of Mrs. Cripps, who was quite fat and cranky, and famous for what was called 'everything stews'- which involved mixing whatever could be found in the kitchen in a large iron pot, to be boiled over the stove for an indeterminate length of time – for Mrs. Cripps had a habit of poring over romantic novels while she cooked and was hard put to tear herself away from the throes of her heroines.  

"Why don't you come in and have dinner at the Bower?" suggested Di as she wiped away a tear in her eye. Daniel had just finished describing his first taste of Mrs. Cripps meat loaf. 

"I tell you- I was green around the edges. But no more so than the meat loaf," he had mournfully averred.

"Yes, Danny, we'd love to have you," exclaimed Faye, giving his arm a squeeze as they reached the front step. "I don't think you could survive another meal like that, and really, I don't think Una would mind setting another place at the table. She loves to cook for people."

"I'm sure it will be all right," answered Di as the door opened to reveal a disheveled, floury looking Nan. 

"Come in, come in," said Nan distractedly as she ushered the three in the dark living room. "Una is running just a little bit late and Persis is still at the newspaper office, so I thought I'd start dinner. I was paging through the cookbook for something a little different tonight but…"

"Oh, Nan this is my cousin Danny," interrupted Faye. "I hope it's all right that I invited him over for dinner…"

"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Nan, looking startled to see Daniel emerge from the living room shadows. Di hurriedly turned on the little rose-colored lamp, revealing Nan in her voluminous apron, on which she was frantically wiping her floury palms so that she might shake hands with Daniel. Despite her efforts, Daniel's elegant gray gloves still received a faint dusting of white, which he wiped discreetly.

"I'm so sorry. I was in the middle of fixing dinner. I didn't know anyone was calling." Nan shot Faye and Di an indignant look and took a furtive glance at the mirror on the wall. Di stifled a laugh- Nan had never met a man looking less than perfect before.

"Don't worry about it," assured Daniel with one of his very best smiles. "I know we've seen each other before- don't you teach the preparatory class for Queen's? I remember you from the auditorium during the Founding Day program – you were in that blue dress that Harriet Sanders was so jealous of. Although, I must admit I like what you're wearing now better," he said with a grin.

Di plucked a green bean caught in Nan's brown hair and she turned scarlet. 

"Now I understand why Una wears that hideous hairnet," said Nan with a sheepish grin as they all laughed.

"Now that we're here, we'll help you out with dinner," said Faye, more confident now with her culinary abilities. 

"But what about -" Nan indicated Daniel with a nod of her head. 

"Oh, I'm quite willing to help out- it's the least I could do after you were so kind to let me eat dinner with you girls," exclaimed Daniel. "But my presence in the kitchen usually involves eating food more than preparing them."

"There's plenty that you can do- you could chop vegetables or wash dishes," suggested Di. "Just whip off those gloves and …"

"On second thought, I think maybe I'd better stay out of the kitchen," said Daniel quickly. 

"What's the matter? You needn't worry that the dishwashing soap will be too harsh with those hands- I have some lotion that will keep them nice and smooth," teased Di. Daniel had few faults, but one of them was vanity and he was rather fastidious when it came to his looks and dress. 

To her surprise, Daniel's eyes darkened at her remark. "No, of course not," he said stiffly. "I think I'd just be in the way, that's all." 

Di blinked in surprise at the petulant remark. "Oh, I didn't mean - "

But he interrupted before she could finish. "Why don't I run over to the bakery and get you some dessert instead?" he suggested, with a smile that seemed forced to Di. "It'll only take a minute. And then I can help set the table for you,"  

He rushed out the kitchen before she could reply. Di did not have time to ponder his strange behavior for Nan suddenly exclaimed that the soup was boiling over. Di rushed to the rescue.

By the time Daniel returned, it seemed that he was over his momentary pique. "I got a nice, gooey chocolate cake, with lashings of frosting. I hope you girls like it," he said, his head peeking into the busy kitchen for a moment before disappearing into the dining room. He set the table speedily, and when he was finished, he went to answer the door, welcoming Una and Persis so masterfully that she remarked, "This is the Bower, right? Or have we got a new house mate I didn't know about?"

The three burst into laughter and after exchanging introductions, Una rushed into the kitchen. Persis stayed in the living room to entertain their guest, though from the laughter issuing from the living room, it sounded like she was the one being entertained. 

"All right, everyone. Dinner is served," announced Di. Persis and Daniel chatted all the way into the dining room- about women's fashions, of all things!

"My sister is studying fashion design in Montreal," he said by way of an explanation.

Dinner at the Bower was always cheerful but the new addition to the table made it even merrier. Persis and Daniel bantered like old friends, with him teasing her about eating two slices of cake and her teasing him that the small chocolate stain he got on his shirt would not come off in the wash.  

Unfortunately, Faye had an early exam tomorrow morning and couldn't stay longer so the two left after dessert, with Daniel insisting that he help clear the table. 

"I'd help with the dishes but I really have to go and review for my exam," said Faye as she got into her coat.

"And I have to walk her home," said Daniel, as he held the door open for her.

"No fair- your first night and already you've begged off kitchen duty," exclaimed Persis in mock outrage.

"I always get off kitchen duty," he said with a slightly wry smile as Faye walked out the door. "Good night, everyone. Good night, Di."

Di watched them stroll down the moonlit lane, their heads- one like sunlight, and the other warm-hued gold- bent together in close conversation. She was surprised by a crazy desire to join them.  

"Oh, Di. I almost forgot to tell you," Nan said, as she entered the kitchen to help with the dishes. "Marcus called for a little while this afternoon, while you were at the Ashtons'."

"Marcus?" repeated Di, with a vague feeling of guilt washing over her. He must have been here while Faye, Daniel and I were walking all over Kingsport. 

""Yes. He stayed for a little while and we chatted a bit. I would have asked him to stay longer but there was dinner to prepare and no one else about, so he left. I'm sorry you missed him."

"I suppose he'll call me on the telephone tonight," said Di.

But he didn't.

**2**

The November days passed and Daniel became the more frequent visitor at the Bower. The girls all adored him and he them, though Di and Faye would remain his favorites. It became a habit for him to drop by at the Ashtons' in the afternoon, often bearing flowers for Di and some treat for the children, and then walking her back to the Bower in the evenings. Di found herself looking forward to these visits- he brought a certain sparkle to the often dreary November afternoons that was lacking when he wasn't about and even the cozy evenings at the Bower parlor seemed warmer when Daniel was around. 

Not that the Bower girls dominated his attention entirely. Daniel, it seemed, was never without female companionship. It was a wonder where he found the time and energy to go about as he did, but he got to know Kingsport maidens all and sundry in a remarkably short time. Nan, in particular, was full of news about his flirtations for it was to her that playful Daniel confessed all his 'romantic woes'. The two were great chums – they both taught the same class in the Edgewood school – and he found plenty of time to fill her in on his latest 'lady fair' on their breaks together. 

"You should have seen Karen Roberts during his class," said Nan, as she, Di and Persis enjoyed a Thursday evening together at the Bower parlour. "She's such a sly puss- sitting front and center hanging over his every word- when she spends all her time in my class whispering and giggling in the back! And she's always whispering about private consultations with Professor Starke… I don't know how Daniel puts up with it."

"I can't say its all the girls' fault. He's really flirts dreadfully," commented Persis a little dryly.    

"That's true," said Nan ruefully. "He even gives Karen Roberts her private lessons… and the girl _does_ have some talent with the recorder, I must admit. I honestly can't think that he's interested in her. I suppose he just enjoys the attention…"

"Oh, let him have his fun!" broke in Persis with a wicked grin. She enjoyed hearing about Daniel's dalliances immensely. "Why does romance have to be so serious and happily-ever-after all the time?"

"Oh, you're just like Daniel, Pers.  He says that its all in fun and there's no harm in it, as long as both parties know what they're doing," remarked Nan, who still swung between curious amusement and disapproval over Daniel's love affairs. "But he really mustn't encourage those girls... one of them is _bound_ to take him seriously. I heard some girls in my class talking about him, trying to reason that twenty-three wasn't too old for fifteen!""

"But Daniel can't have much truck with those girls outside of class, does he?" asked Di with a frown. 

"Not much – but girls at that age don't _need_ much. You know how silly and sentimental they can get over the smallest things," said Nan, with an air of an old-knowing matron that amused Persis immensely. "It's strange- he's no more handsome than other boys in Kingsport but he turns on that smile and those big eyes, and the girls' hearts are all a-flutter. And that boy smiles at everybody, you know." 

Di nodded. Daniel did have a charming smile – one that made you feel that you shared a chummy secret. 

And he was anything but a snob- he befriended everybody, from the richest aristocrat to the cleaning woman of his boardinghouse. Still, he was just friendly, frivolous Daniel – _hardly a Greek God from the way he's carrying on,_ she thought with a surprising sting of resentment. 

"But his latest amour is Peggy Chambers. He walked her home two days in a row and tonight, they're supposed to go to the cinema," continued Nan. 

"An odd choice," Persis remarked, a little derisively. "Isn't she that blunt-nosed creature with the mean mouth? Always bragging about her family's fortune and insisting on wearing green when she's too sallow for it. But _three times_ in the past week… that _is_ serious."

"I think I'll go upstairs," declared Di, suddenly and decidedly. There were times when Persis' flippantness annoyed her. 

But it was strange that she never heard much about Daniel's flirtations, though they spent more time together than anyone else. In fact he never really talked about girls to Di, though apparently he did to Nan and Persis. The omission bothered her more than she would admit. 

Weren't they good enough chums for _that_?

But she would _not _lower herself by asking him why – even though she was thinking about it the following afternoon, on their long meandering walk down Nightingale Lane that was fast becoming a routine. Daniel was telling her a funny anecdote from school – all about round songs that went nowhere. Di laughed along with him, but at the back of her mind, she was wondering how he had enjoyed last night's film with Peggy Chambers. 

In fact, she was so busy mulling it over that she barely recognized a pair of startled gray eyes staring directly at her. 

Di gave a guilty little start when she saw Marcus standing by the Bower gate. She hadn't seen him in weeks- he had been so busy preparing for the Championship game, which was this very Saturday. While she had been preoccupied with... 

Her glance slid over to Daniel, who was looking at her rather curiously, and then to Marcus again, whose gray eyes were strangely uneasy. 

"Di, there you are!" Marcus said, with a rather forced looking smile. "I didn't realize that you were coming… I mean, I'm so sorry I can't stay longer. I've got a paper to finish and the game you know, I've got an early practice…"

"Of course," replied Di, feeling ill at ease herself. As if she'd been caught doing something wrong! It was ridiculous. "I'm sorry to have missed you. And… this is Daniel Starke- he's Faye's cousin," she tacked on hurriedly.

"Pleased to meet you," said Daniel cheerfully. That irritated Di. He had no right to be so relaxed when she and Marcus felt like children with their hands caught in the cookie jar.

Di smiled at Marcus. Marcus glanced at Daniel. Daniel studied Di. The three of them stared at each other, making an oddly silent triangle.

Marcus cleared his throat a little too loudly.  "Yes, well… you'll be coming to the game Saturday, aren't you?" Marcus asked. "I've left the tickets with Nan… I was going to ring you up tonight."

"Well, I wouldn't miss it," exclaimed Di, nodding and smiling vigorously

"Great. So I guess I'll see you there."

"I'm looking forward to it," repeated Di, still smiling like a Cheshire Cat.

"Well… I really have to go," he said, stepping past Daniel with an awkward wave, then left.

"A nice chap," Daniel remarked blandly as they passed the gate. "Nan told me that he's a member of the football team."

"Yes, he's very talented and a good friend of mine," said Di. 

"Oh," remarked Daniel blandly. Daniel- bland and noncommittal! As well cats bark and dogs purr! What _did _it mean?

Somehow, conversation seemed to fall flat after that encounter and Daniel left precipitately. 

"I suppose you met Marcus down the lane?" asked Nan as Di entered the parlor. "He stayed all afternoon but he had to leave. He had to finish a Latin paper for Prof. Gresham tomorrow. I wished him luck – you know how fussy and exacting Prof. Gresham is. Why didn't you ask Daniel to stay?"

"Oh, he had something to do," answered Di vaguely.

"Well, Marcus left the tickets for Saturday's game at the table- there's two. You might take Faye along – Marcus invited me, but Jerry and I are going to the cinema. He's been so busy lately, I wouldn't mind having some time alone with him. Oh, and did you know that Marcus might be promoted to team captain next term? He told me all about it- it's either him or Graham Muller. "

"No, we haven't really talked lately," said Di shortly. She left for the kitchen, under guise of getting a glass of water. It bothered her that Nan should know more about Marcus than she did. In fact, Nan had probably spent more time with Marcus these past two weeks than she had.

_Am I actually jealous of Nan? _thought Di incredulously. _No, of course not._ She just felt bad that Marcus waited all afternoon for her; and Nan might have felt put upon entertaining him.

But the whole encounter with Marcus and Daniel at the lane left a sour taste in her mouth. Almost she wished that he hadn't stopped by! If Di had been more dramatic, she might have said that it was one of little things that had enormous consequences. 

But sensible Di simply dismissed that thought firmly.  

**3**

Saturday morning dawned bright and cold. Faye and Di were going to the game; Faye dressed in her new fawn-colored overcoat and green scarf. She wanted to look her best for Sylvester; he was picking them up and after the game, the two were attending a lecture on Canadian law. Faye had invited Di to come along with them, but Di gracefully declined.   

"Is Daniel watching the game?" asked Di.

"No. He said something about seeing the ballet with Belinda. We might meet them at the lecture."

_So much for Peggy Chambers_. "Belinda?"

"Belinda Drake. I believe I introduced her to you at Gwen Richards dance the other day," commented Faye as she tried on her new mint green velvet cap in front of the mirror. She adjusted the pins on her hair; sloppiness irritated Sylvester. He always wanted her to look her best.  

Di had a vague remembrance of a fair, slender somebody with sleek brown curls and an air of sophistication and expensive perfume. "Oh her," she said flatly.

They heard the screech of tires and an impatient honk. Di and Faye rushed out the door; Sylvester didn't like to be kept waiting.

"Yes, she's an old friend of Sylvester's," continued Faye as she slipped in the front seat. "In fact, it was Syl who suggested that I introduce the two of them."

"Well, any friend of yours etcetera…" said Sylvester nonchalantly. "Besides, it'll be nice to have someone show him around town and keep him company." 

Faye smiled broadly. Sylvester was so kind and thoughtful. But perhaps she would have thought less of his kindness if she knew that Sylvester only did it to keep Daniel out of Faye's hair. He didn't like the idea of any man hanging around Faye, cousin or no.

They arrived at the football field a half hour before the game was supposed to begin but already the seats were filled with an excited crowd, drinking sodas and waving their pennants. Marcus had gotten them great seats at the lower box; Di spotted him on the sidelines, talking with his teammates.

"Excuse me just a minute," said Di, as she squeezed her way past the excited rows of people. She wanted to wish Marcus good luck before the game and try to erase the awkwardness that had sprung between them.

She waved to a few of her acquaintances as she wended her way down the field- being an avid sports fan, she knew quite a few of the football team members.  She was still quite a ways off but she could already hear their conversation. Graham Muller always spoke too loudly when he was excited. 

"So Sally Struthers is planning a dance at her house tomorrow night in honor of the first game," Graham Muller was saying. 

"I know. Nearly everyone in Redmond was invited. I've already asked Wendy Sutton to go with me," said Rick Gaits. "We'd better win the game. I heard the Art Society was painting a big 'We are the Champions' banner and hanging it on the Struthers' front lawn. So who are you bringing, Marcus? You still interested in that Blythe girl?"

Di didn't mean to eavesdrop, yet despite her best efforts her steps slowed down and she ducked a little behind a burly lad doing calisthenics. 

"Yes, but I don't know. I think she might have a sweetheart already," answered Marcus. She could not see the expression on his face very clearly; the lad doing jumping jacks obscured her view.

"Well, you could hardly expect her not to- a pretty girl like that," commented Graham in a commiserating tone. He whistled. "What a figure! And her long brown hair…"

Di froze. _Brown hair?_

The burly lad suddenly stooped down to tie his shoelaces and before Di could slip away, Marcus had already spotted her.

"Di, you're here! I'm so glad you could come. Have you met my friends? This is Graham Muller and Rick Gaits."

Was it her imagination or was his smile a little stiff?

Di shook hands with them both. "I just wanted to thank you again for the tickets and wish you good luck for the game," she heard herself say as she reached them. _Brown hair?_

"Thank you. And listen, Sally Struthers is having a dance to celebrate today's game. I would really love it if you'd allow me to escort you tomorrow night."

"Yes, I think I'd like that," Di answered steadily enough, though her thoughts were still whirling.

"That's wonderful. I hope you like the seats I reserved for you. Lower box, center. Are you with Nan?"

"No. She had something else to do with Jerry. I'm with Faye and Sylvester." 

"Oh, that's too bad," remarked Graham, shaking his head. "Well, you'd better get back to your seat, the game's about to begin."

"And I wouldn't want to miss any of it," she exclaimed heartily. "Well, good luck!" she said with a jaunty wave.  

Di couldn't really remember how she got back to her seat. She stared blankly at the field, as the players were introduced and cheers rose all around her.

Did Marcus like Nan? It couldn't be…. didn't he just ask her to the Struthers' dance? Perhaps she had heard Graham wrong…

More cheers erupted from their side; and Di realized belatedly that Redmond's goalkeeper had just made the first save of the day. She fumed inwardly. At this rate, she was going to miss the entire game! 

Perhaps Graham had simply been mistaken and Marcus hadn't time to correct him.

She comforted herself with this thought and contrived to enjoy the game tolerably well. It was a close match all the way down to the final minutes. As the clock wound down with the score at 2-2, Marcus intercepted the ball and he was off like a shot. It was like the tide turning as the players raced down the field. Marcus skillfully sidestepped his defender and passed the ball to an open Graham Muller. Quick as a wink, the ball was flying towards the goal. The crowd held their breath; the goalkeeper dived but he was a tick to late; and the ball sailed into the net to the chorus of roars from the Redmond students. 

The crowd was on its feet; cheering and hugging. Redmond pennants fluttered triumphantly in the air – they were Regional champions!

"We won! Oh, this is so exciting," exclaimed Faye with pink cheeks. "Wasn't Graham wonderful? Oh, and Marcus too, for intercepting that pass! They were definitely the game's heroes. You and Marcus are going to Sally's dance together, aren't you? I'm sure everybody will be there, celebrating!"

"Yes, and I'm sure Marcus and I will do a play-by-play half a dozen times on the drive over," Di said with a laugh, having recovered her good spirits. "No one will be able to talk of anything else!"

**4**

But despite Di's outward happiness, the shadow of Graham's careless, throwaway comment in the field was not entirely forgotten. Perhaps that was why she took extra care on her appearance the next night. She wore her best evening gown, a silvery-green silk that brought out the luster of her red hair and the gleam of her gray-green eyes. She experimented with half a dozen ways of doing up her hair before Nan, looking beautiful as always in her pale blue satin dress with lovely blue tulle sashes at the waist, sailed to her rescue.

"I guess someone's nervous about tonight," teased Nan as she took up the brush and surveyed her sister before the vanity mirror. Further evidence came from the fact that her normally simple, no-nonsense twin did not kick up a fuss this time about her hair being too elaborate. For once, Nan brushed and curled, twisted and pinned to her heart's content. 

"There! You look lovely, darling!" exclaimed Nan triumphantly as she artistically arranged a few loose curls. "Now, I really must fly and attend to my own looks. Jerry will be here any minute."

Di looked at herself in the mirror and had to admit that she did look lovely. Perhaps it was Nan's magicry or the soft light of her bedroom, but her red hair, done up so elegantly, gleamed like burnished fire. Her lips were rosy red and the pink in her cheeks even drowned out her few freckles. She was really looking her best as she put dabs of perfume on her wrists and then floated down to wait for Marcus in the parlour.  

Marcus arrived a few minutes later, handsome in his navy blue suit. He paid her the proper compliments, said a quick hello to the girls- he asked about Nan _very_ casually, but she was still upstairs getting ready for the dance - and then the two of them climbed his auto. 

Things seemed to be going well. Di congratulated him on the team's victory and the two of them gleefully dissected each play of yesterday's game, with Di getting a very detailed account of that last, winning play. 

By the time the two of them were striding up the Struthers' front door, Di was beginning to think that she had worried for nothing.  

"Hello, Diana. Oh there you are, Marcus! Everyone's waiting for you!" gushed Sally as she ushered them in to the Struthers' ballroom. Marcus arrival was hailed with loud cheers; he was lauded, clapped on the back and generally showered with praise.

For a while, the two of them mingled with the crowd. Di waved to Faye and Sylvester, who stood chatting with a crowd of law students. Marcus got to tell his story about twenty times as they circled the room. Di was having a good time – until she saw Daniel arm-in-arm with Belinda Drake. 

Di was surprised at her sudden desire to disappear into the crowd; unfortunately, Daniel had already seen her and was striding towards them. 

"Di, Marcus! Congratulations on the team's victory!" Daniel greeted cheerfully. Belinda, gorgeous in a purple chiffon, gave Di a cool, stiff greeting in that perfectly polite way of hers. She smiled at Marcus more warmly though for the football team was always highly regarded.

"That was some pass, Marcus!" continued Daniel, as if nothing in the world was wrong. That was Marcus' opening to repeat his story for the twenty-first time. Di plastered a smile on her face, though she was getting a little sick of hearing about football. She was about to suggest that they dance; but then Marcus' teammates suddenly accosted him.

"You don't mind if we borrow him for a little while, do you Di?" asked Rick Gaits. "Sally wants us to pose for a picture under that big victory banner."

Di waved him off with a smile but that left her alone with Daniel and Belinda- not a pleasant prospect at all. She escaped to the refreshment table for a nice cup of lemonade, quite far away from the milling crowd. Faye and Sylvester were also there, having just taken a stroll along the deserted garden. The three chatted for a little while, thankfully, on a subject other than yesterday's championship game.

"Well, I guess this is their moment in the sun," remarked Faye, sensing that Di was a little tired of sharing Marcus with the crowd. "I'm sure you'll have more time with him later. Why don't you ask him to dance?"

"Marcus doesn't like to dance. The guy has two left feet," remarked Sylvester. "On the other hand, I am a devil of dancer. Care for a demonstration, Faye?" he asked as the band struck up a new song.  

"Di, is it all right if we…?" 

Di nodded and watched the two of them step onto the dance floor. Whatever she felt about Sylvester- secretly, she agreed with Persis that he was a tad domineering - he and Faye did look good together as they stepped in time with the lively beat of the music. Couples twirled around the dance floor in a pleasing whirlwind of color and movement. One of them sailed by, looking very familiar – a girl with brown hair in a pale blue dress with a red haired…

Di frowned – that was Marcus and Nan! 

The song ended and the two of them walked off together. Di wove in and out of the crowd trying to keep them in sight. They stopped at the corner of the room, still chatting.

_Brown hair._  She remembered Graham's words with surprising swiftness. Di watched them from a ways off with a sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach.  

_There was certainly nothing wrong with two friends dancing_; she told herself, but the way Marcus was smiling at Nan now, his gray eyes intent on her face…  

The band suddenly struck up a slow song, a soft slightly pensive melody like fairy music. Couples drifted in to the dance floor, hands clasped, eyes gazing at each other's faces as they swayed gently. 

Marcus was saying something, his gray eyes gleaming with eagerness as one hand took hers. The other gestured towards the dance floor. Nan was smiling but she shook her head. Di knew she was trying to put him off kindly but Marcus actually leaned in closer…  

Di wondered if she should do something, but before she could take a single step, Jerry suddenly swooped in with a frown. 

Marcus backed away, trying to seem free and easy, as Jerry protectively stepped in between them.

Both Marcus and Di watched Nan walk off in Jerry's arms with a look of relief. Di saw a look of mingled frustration and disappointment in Marcus' face close-up as she strode up to him with a jolly greeting.

"Oh, hello Di!" he said with a start, an uneasy look in his gray eyes. _Did she know…?_

Di remembered when she had seen that look before – when she had met him just outside the Bower with Daniel. Where he had spent hours being entertained by Nan. She _had_ wondered what cause he had to look guilty…

Oh, Graham Greene had been right!  

Di had to get away. Her eyes smarted and her head was starting to pound. 

"I'm afraid I'm not feeling very well, Marcus," Di said, hoping that he would mistake her flushed creeks and reddening eyes and nose for sickness. "I have a terrible headache. Don't worry, I've gotten a ride with a friend so you go on with your party," she continued, with a smile of forced gaiety. She had her pride!  

But oh, Marcus didn't even _try_ to stop her as she walked away – in fact, there was a look of relief in his face.

Marcus had a sneaking suspicion that Di knew… _but at least she wasn't making a scene_, he thought thanking his lucky stars as she slipped away.

Di walked out of the glass doors, leading to the Strother's empty garden, far away from the crowd. It was a lovely place- under normal circumstances, she would have been happier here than inside the ballroom. There were little paths of dressed stone threading through hedges and flowerbeds that ended in front of a grotto and fishpond. 

She sat there, quite oblivious to any damage on her beautiful dress. The goldfish were luminous in the moonlight. She saw her reflection in the inky water, her pale face and reddened cheeks, her wonderfully coiffed hair…

She yanked the hairpins off almost violently. Her hair fell down, curls clustering around her face and shoulders like a curtain. Red curls, oh her abominable red hair… 

"Oh, I can't possibly be jealous of Nan!" she gasped. "It's…it's just too ridiculous!" 

But she couldn't mistake the longing in Marcus' face when Nan walked away… and the relief in his face when she did.

She thought of the afternoons Marcus spent at the Bower with Nan for company. The awkwardness she had felt when they met again. Even the fact that she hadn't spoken to him in weeks, they had both been so busy then… 

And Nan, pretty Nan, always charming. Who couldn't help falling in love with her? 

Di swallowed. She couldn't blame Nan – she knew her twin wouldn't hurt her for the world. And she was sure Nan didn't encourage him; she was fathoms deep in love with Jerry. Despite the hurt she felt, Di would be fair. 

Besides, she had to admit that she felt more humiliation than hurt over this whole affair. Oh, she _had_ been attracted to Marcus, but honestly, just how well did she know him? They hadn't really gotten to know  each other… not that he had wanted to after he had seen Nan – her better half. 

Oh that thought was bitter!

Di looked at herself critically. She wasn't ugly. Pale face, gray-green eyes, a very good nose – thank you, Mother! – though it _was_ freckled. Nan's complexion was lovely, peaches-and-cream flawless. Her mouth now… she had a nice mouth, rosy and kissable – Steve Atkins had said that at the Glen dance last year. But Nan had such a winning smile, and a trick of holding her head and walking as if she were a bough swaying in the wind.   

She had never minded Nan being prettier than her – on the contrary, she was proud when people complimented her sister. But it stung to have been so neatly tossed aside… and to have been oblivious to it. She felt that she had been made a fool. And she had thought tonight would be so beautiful…  

"Di? There you are!"

Di started, looking up at a pair of concerned amber eyes.

"Marcus told me that you weren't feeling well and had gone home, but I knew I saw you heading out here. Are you feeling better? Sally has a spare room handy if you need to lie down."

"Oh, its all right," Di tried to smile. "I just… needed a little quiet and some fresh air."

"So are you staying out here then? Who are you riding home with?" asked Daniel, who didn't think it was right that Marcus was now surrounded by a crowd of admiring girls while Di was out here all alone. He had given Marcus quite a talking to for not even offering Di a ride home.

"Yes, I'm riding home with Nan and Jerry," said Di. "Don't worry, I'll be fine right here. You go back to the party."

"Well, if you say so…"  

Di was surprised to feel a sharp stab of disappointment as she watched him walk down the path, back to the ballroom. Despite her words, she suddenly wished that she had asked him to stay. 

A lively strain of music sprang from the house. Daniel was probably dancing up a storm with Belinda… Daniel loved being the center of attention and he was a good dancer. He had said so himself, numerous times. 

She turned back to the fishpond, but before she could return to contemplating her looks again, she heard a step on the stone path. 

"Put this on. You don't want to catch a chill now," cautioned Daniel, giving her his jacket as he sat down beside her. "I just went to the kitchen and had Sally's cook fix some ginger tea for your headache." 

"Thank you," Di said, still a little startled that he had come back to her instead of staying inside. She suddenly felt very warm- and it wasn't because of the jacket or the tea. "But shouldn't you go back to the party?" she asked reluctantly. "Belinda…"

"… is having the most wonderful time dancing with Graham Muller. She's always fancied him. I expect they'll hit it off," commented Daniel without a hint of jealousy or hurt.  

"So you don't… like her?" asked Di, a smile blooming on her face.

"I knew the minute I met her that friends are all we'd ever be. She was wearing this heavy lilac perfume– they make me sneeze– so I knew it wasn't meant to be." 

"That's a lovely criteria for deciding whether or not you like a girl," commented Di with a laugh. "An allergic reaction is a definite no."

"Well, dating someone with a cold in the head isn't exactly romantic," said Daniel with a grin. "I had to be polite to her though since she's a friend of Sylvester. I only took her to the party because she didn't have a date. Now that she's with Graham, I think a disappearing act is in order. So I'll sit here and keep you company, if you don't mind my chatter. Is it making your headache worse?"

"No, it's not," assured Di, as she dropped her head on his shoulder. 

In fact, her headache was gone. Maybe it was going to be a beautiful night after all.   


	10. Holiday Vows

Author's Notes: Here's the full version of Chapter 10 =) Hope you all enjoy it! Please read and review! Chapter 10: Holiday Vows 

****

**1**

Di ended up going home in Sylvester's car with Faye and Daniel that night. Belinda, having declared that she was "wildly in love with Graham Muller", did not mind at all giving up her seat by Daniel's side.  

Di never alluded to the incident at party; and Nan – wise Nan, she knew her twin well – never brought it up. So Marcus faded out of the Blythe twins lives with nary a backward glance from both.

Besides, Di had no time for repining Marcus' lost affections. December days were always hectic- exams were looming for the Redmond students, and the boys, Una and Faye took to haunting the library and setting up frequent study groups. Persis was putting together a special Christmas edition of the "Kingsport Voice". Di was caught in a whirl of Christmas festivities, arranging parties and small dinners for Mrs. Ashtons' many visitors over the holidays. 

But exceptionally busy was Nan and Daniel, who aside from their teaching duties were very involved with Edgewood High's Christmas program, a time-honoured and highly anticipated tradition, whose proceeds were donated to an orphanage in Kingsport.    

Nan was named stage manager for the school play – this year, they were doing Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" while Daniel was put in charge of the Prep's Christmas concert- a high honor given his youth and the fact that he was a substitute teacher. He would also be playing a piano solo as the concert's opening act. 

But not everyone was pleased that Daniel had been chosen. It was whispered by a few of the senior faculty that he would never have gotten were it not for his _popularity_ with the students. 

"Especially with the women," one of them whispered derisively in Daniel's hearing. 

Daniel smarted considerably under such insinuations, which troubled Di. She had always thought that insults to Daniel were like water off a duck's back. But Daniel was surprisingly sensitive when it came to music- much like Persis with her writing. _Or me with my red hair_, she thought.

"I never did get my music degree in Vienna, what with the war breaking out while I was studying," he said one afternoon to Di with a surprising amount of bitterness. "I suppose I'm not a legitimate musician unless I have a diploma telling them so."

"But you play the piano so well," commented Di. "Surely they can't find fault in that area." 

"Any fool could monkey around with the piano," said Daniel sourly, quoting Dr. Fellows, the other music teacher who had hankered to organize the Christmas concert this year. He sighed, "And it isn't just a matter of being able to play an instrument. A lot of people can do that – Fellows can, if it comes down to it. But what bothers me is… well…" 

He looked down at his hands, encased in navy blue gloves, then raised his troubled eyes to Di. She leaned closer, concerned with his unusually somber attitude. Something about those green-gray eyes touched him, so tender and so alluring, that made him feel unusually bold. "It's the fact that I…" 

"Oh, don't you mind them- its just sour grapes," Persis remarked as she burst into the Bower's kitchen. She sat down the kitchen table next to the two, reaching for a chocolate muffin that Una baked for an afternoon snack. "Nan never liked Fellows much – she said he was full of hot air, raising so much pother just because he's been passed over. Just concentrate on making the concert a success and he won't dare say a word about you."

"I guess you're right," Daniel said with a shrug. "So how's the magazine going, Pers?"

"Pretty well- still on schedule right now. I'm working on an article about the ten best gift shops in Kingsport."

"Oh, Christmas shopping," said Daniel with a groan. "I haven't even begun yet, I've so much on my mind. And isn't it strange how every year, your list keeps getting longer and longer? Pretty soon I really will need a sleigh to bring home all those presents." 

"I know exactly how you feel. I've been saving for Christmas since Halloween!"

Di stifled a sigh of disappointment. She had a feeling that Daniel had been about to tell her something important. But somehow, serious conversation was hard to muster with Persis about. 

Mixed blessing or no, Daniel threw himself fully into the preparations for the concert. He had a surprising knack for management; organizing the three Prep classes into groups, assigning songs, soothing egos and diffusing arguments, which were to be expected in any endeavor with such a large group. The concert was something of a showcase for the students; the solos in particular were a point of pride for the Preps and their parents. Daniel found himself besieged with requests from proud mamas and papas.

"Every day, I find a new batch of Christmas cookies on my desk, with a very politely worded note _suggesting_ that so-and-so would be perfect for this part. It's driving me mad!" exclaimed Daniel to Nan in the school auditorium. "And I've put Alice Gibson and May Palmer in the dueling voices medley. They insisted on those roles particularly and I still can't figure out why."

"The Gibson and Palmer women have a long tradition in music here in Kingsport. They're not called the Soprano 1 and Soprano 2 for nothing. Though there will be some arguments on who the Soprano 2 family is," said Nan with a grin. "And have you reconciled Elaine Campbell to being placed with the altos?"

"Its either that or have her warbling along off-key somewhere in the very back of the soprano group, which she couldn't stand since she always wants to be front and center. I kept on telling her that her voice is simply not as high now as when she was ten years old.

"And then there's Larry Robinson, who doesn't want to be separated from his friends in the baritone section, even though his voice is so nicely suited to the tenors."

"I hate to say this, but he sounds like a frog when he reaches the lower registers," remarked Nan. Then they both winced as the group singing "Silent Night" hit a high note none too squarely. 

"A little flat," observed Daniel. "We still need to go through that part extra carefully. Want to have the rest of the cookies?"

With Daniel having his hands full with the concert and Nan with the play, they found themselves keeping each other company through the late rehearsals. Di couldn't help but feel a slight pang of loneliness when she thought of Daniel walking Nan home. Sometimes she wondered if Jerry felt the same way but that was ridiculous. She hadn't any right to… she and Daniel were just friends, weren't they?

That was the question on her mind as she rode the ship home to the Glen with the other Merediths and Blythes to attend Mary Vance's wedding to Miller Douglas. 

**2**

"Nan and Di Blythe! My, but its been a while since I last saw you two," exclaimed Mary Vance as she ushered them into the Elliot's parlour. After a light supper, the twins had gone to Miss Cornelia's house to help with last minute preparations for the wedding. Faith and Una were already there – Una was maid of honour and Faith a bridesmaid. "I'm so glad you could make it to my little wedding." 

Nan and Di exchanged glances. Mary had been a little miffed that Di and Nan couldn't be her bridesmaids but they simply couldn't afford to many trips back and forth from Kingsport to P.E. Island. Mary had refused give up Una though, who had a very special place in her life, way back to when the Merediths had discovered her in Mr. Taylor's barn.

"Oh, we wouldn't have missed your wedding for anything," remarked Di cordially. She glanced out the window at the Elliot's' lawn, where a panoply of chairs faced a matriarchal willow, its boughs festooned with silver streamers. Tomorrow, Mary and Miller would be standing there, saying their vows. "I still can't believe that one of us is about to become a Mrs."

"Well, I can! And it's about time! If it wasn't for that dratted war, Miller and I would have been husband and wife years ago," said Mary with a grin, deciding to bury the hatchet with unusual grace. What mattered who was in her bridal party? She was getting married, ahead of any of the Blythe girls! "Although, if there weren't any war, Cornelia never would have let me get married to Miller. But she's all for it now, though I still haven't brought Kitty around. Now let's go up to my room for a good, long chat."

"We're so sorry we haven't been about to help with the arrangements," said Nan. "So tell us all about your wedding… the decorations, the guests, everything we've missed."

Mary didn't need to be asked twice. Her tongue was still as tireless as ever as she chattered about her wedding plans.

"It'll be a small wedding- I really don't care much for all that fuss. When the Mead house went for that price, I knew we had to snap it up, even if it meant postponing the wedding. A fall wedding would have been so nice, but not as much as have a roof of my own. Can you believe me, Mary Vance, owning – not renting – a house like that?" She opened the door to her room, rather bare now for her things were already waiting for her at her new home.   

"Now, Faith and Una are trying on their dresses. Wait'll you see them - I picked out the color myself. Kitty wanted this hideous speckled yellow shade, and I just said no flat to that! I don't want my bridesmaids to look like gigantic bananas. Now, tell me, don't those two look splendid?"

Faith and Una had entered the room in pretty sky-blue muslin dresses with clouds of lace. They also wore matching blue silk chip hats, decorated with a bit of netting and a spray of white doves. 

"And now you must show Nan and Di your gown," suggested Una, who knew Mary was dying to show it off.

Mary hopped up to her closet and proudly displayed the white satin gown with the beaded bodice, her eyes shining with pride. 

"Cornelia actually had it done by the Charlottetown milliner," confided Mary later as she replaced it in the closet with a loving glance. "And my veil actually belongs to Cornelia's mother. It's not at all the fashion but I don't care. It's… nice… to wear something with a bit of family behind it," Her voice, despite that little half-defiant note, trembled a little. 

Nan's look telegraphed to Di:  Was this brash, sharp-tongued Mary Vance?

_How love does soften us_, thought Di. 

The next morning dawned a little overcast and between that and the discovery that someone had accidentally knocked a tray of sandwiches into the sink, Di and Nan found Mary Vance pacing nervously at the hallway.

"Old Kitty had been driving me crazy this past quarter of an hour- she invited three more of the Douglases from over harbour so that'll be three more places set at the luncheon. Thanks be to goodness, Cornelia and I cooked up plenty of eats," exclaimed Mary. "Now all I have to do is worry about that imp of a Timmy Douglas getting his fingers all over the pies. And heaven forbid he get into the whipped cream and sauces!"

"Do sit down, Mary – you're giving me motion sickness - and let us take care of it," soothed Nan, as she guided Mary to a chair. "I brought the 'mums and lilies over and I'll set them in the stands outside. Di and Faith will watch over the children to make sure they don't run amuck. Now, you just sit there and get some rest – it's your wedding day!"

"Oh, I know, I know!" moaned Mary. For a wonder, she was actually shaking! Calm, capable Mary Vance, who was flustered at nothing.

"Better call Una and have her help Mary get ready," whispered Nan to Di. 

An hour later, Nan and Di took their seats at the Elliot's lawn. The sky had cleared; Nan had done a wonderful job with the flowers, the food for the luncheon was set with places found for the three last minute arrivals. Everything was ready as Mary stepped onto the lawn at Mr. Elliot's arm, looking radiant in her white satin gown and French heels, a cluster of showy blossoms in her hands. 

Mary Vance beamed from underneath the snowy folds of her veil as she met Miller Douglas under the arms of the willow. Faith and Una took their places at Mary's side, Faith like a glowing, golden rose and Una like a delicate, white lily. 

It was a simple ceremony; short but sweet. Nan sniffled a little as Mary and Miller exchanged their vows but she was all smiles again by the time the two kissed.

Mary made her way around the different tables during the reception, graciously receiving congratulations and good wishes. 

"Miller and I will have our wedding tour at Boston- I've always been curious about the States. We'll be gone just a fortnight. Can't be lollygagging about with a whole house waiting for Miller and me," said Mary, as she sat or a little while at the Blythes table.

And then at the Meredith's table. "Remember when you found me at the Mr. Taylor's barn?" she remarked wistfully. "You let me stay at your house as if I wasn't a stranger. I never dreamed that years and years from now, you'd still be my friends." Then she brightened and said with her usual brashness, "I expect to see you all in my new home lots and lots. I can't join you in your capers, now that I'm a married woman, but you are going to visit me lots. I love to entertain."

They saw her off at Miller's new car. Mr. Meredith was the last to say goodbye. He smiled at her, remembering a talk so long ago and the frightened eyes of a poor neglected soul. Now, Mary's shining white eyes were full of hope and plans for the future. _What a change the years have wrought! _he thought

"God bless you, Mary," he said, his voice filled with that wonderful tenderness that Mary could never forget. 

"He already has, Mr. Meredith," she assured him with her strong voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you for everything."

Then she climbed in the car next to her husband. The door slammed and they were off.

"Well, there's the first of our set to get married," remarked Faith with a sigh, as they sat outside enjoying leftover pie from the wedding feast. 

"There'll be more soon I'm sure," commented Nan, with a teasing, sidelong glance at Faith and Jem. "O-ow!" she exclaimed as Jem gave her a pinch. The group burst out laughing. 

"You should talk, Nan Blythe, soon to be Nan…" Then it was Faith's turn to receive a pinch, courtesy of Jerry.

"Oh, I can't stand all this courting talk," complained Carl, good-naturedly. "If the pair of you get any sweeter, we'll be swarmed by ants!"

They all laughed again but Di felt a sudden strange pang of loneliness as she looked at the old gang. _Jem, Jerry, Faith, Una, Nan, Carl and I… minus Mary_ _now,_ she thought. _We'll never be truly together again_

The first wedding was over. The page of youth had turned and Di wasn't sure she liked it.  

****

**3**

"Di, darling, it's been ages," exclaimed Daniel with a wide smile, as he and Nan stood on the Ashtons' front step.

"It's been a week," shot back Di with a grin. 

"Well, it felt like ages. Or maybe that's just because we've tramped all over Kingsport, begging for donations."

"Canvassing, Daniel," explained Nan patiently. "We're _canvassing_ for _contributions_."

"But more often than not, it did come down to begging. Do let us in, Di, before I fall down in a swoon at your feet," he said plaintively.

"All right, all right," Di said laughingly as she led them to the kitchen. "Maybe some of Cook's fruitcake will hearten you up."

"Please don't talk about fruitcake," shuddered Nan. "We had to eat the most horrible tasting one at the Shaws' today."

"It might have been left over from last Christmas," put in Daniel mournfully. "We're not sure if it was worth the ten dollars." 

"You poor dears," Di said, as she put out a dish of cookies instead.  "But maybe this will make you feel better. Aunt Mara left her contribution right here," She handed Daniel a fat white envelope. Mrs. Ashton was a very generous patron of the arts. "She also said she was sorry they couldn't make it to the program. The Ashtons' are all going to Montreal for the holidays."

"That's too bad. I really wanted Grace to see it. Where is the little munchkin?"

"Yes, where are they?" repeated Nan. "I wanted to meet Aaron."

"They left after lunch- visiting their grandparents out of town. But Mrs. Ashton wanted me to stay and keep house until Faye comes home from her classes. So how did you two make out?" Di asked as she poured them some lemonade.

"Pretty well. We got three slammed doors, two 'nobody's home' and one 'don't bother me, I'm sleeping'," replied Daniel. "We met some pretty interesting characters, didn't we Nan?"

"Oh, definitely," agreed Nan, trying to keep a straight face. "One man told us that plays were an abomination and lectured us extensively on the geography of hell." 

"He must have been there," Daniel remarked with a faint smile.

"Mrs. Shaw wouldn't give us money unless we put her name on the playbill. Mr. Doyle said that if he wanted to hear singing, he'd listen to the cats in his backyard. And Mr. Strudwick didn't know what 'A Christmas Carol' was all about. So we tell him the whole story…"

"And he curses Ebenezer Scrooge all throughout – 'that varmint! That mean, flint-hearted varmint!'" imitated Daniel. "And then he cries at the end."

"But he was very generous… he bought tickets for his entire family and gave us twenty dollars." ended Nan. "All in all, I think we have enough to rent out the Winslow Hall."

"Winslow Hall? I thought it was going to be held at the school auditorium," said Di.

"It usually is," said Daniel nonchalantly. "But since Miss Gloria Sullivan, famed opera singer, is performing in the program…"

"Daniel Starke, I knew from that look in your eyes that you were up to something!   How did you manage it?" Di exclaimed.

"Well, it was written up in the papers that she was staying at the Hilton over the holidays and it seemed like a golden opportunity. I was talking it over with Persis and it turned out that the Kingsport Voice had arranged for her to interview Miss Sullivan. Pers snuck me in and I spoke to Ms. Sullivan about it. When she heard that it was for charity, she agreed to do it right away. She thought it would be good publicity for the opera, which opens in January." 

"She's only performing two numbers but having her name at the playbill really brought up ticket sales. We're sold out and there's even talk of people coming from out of town," put in Nan, her hazel eyes shining with excitement. 

"So the powers-that-be decided that we should make this a bigger affair and rent out the best concert hall in Kingsport!" ended Daniel. "And oh, here's your ticket to the program- it's free since I put you on my guest list, along with my sister Katharine and my friend, Ryan," said Daniel. "I really wish Faye could come but Grandma Miriam has already booked her passage to England."

Di nodded. "I know. She really wishes she could see it too. Persis has to return to Toronto. Jem is going home to see Faith; Carl and Una will be going home too – Aunt Rosemary isn't feeling too well, and they want to tend to her. And Shirley has an exam in the evening. But Jerry and I will be there- I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The three of them chatted about the program until Nan realized that she had left her script at the school auditorium.  

"I'll have to go back and get it- the list of props I need to get is tucked in there somewhere," Nan said. "No, don't get up, you two. I'll get Jerry to pick me up at the auditorium."

They saw Nan to the door and then turning to Daniel, Di commented, "After hearing about the program from you and Nan, I don't wonder you were able to persuade Miss Sullivan to appear in it.  It looks like this will be one of the most talked-about events in Kingsport. Are you nervous?"

Daniel was silent for a little while, and he was unusually thoughtful as he answered, "They had the playbill printed today. My name was right there on the crew page – Daniel Starke, Concert director. I've never been in charge of something like this before. I… I have to admit, it scares me a little. The audience isn't going to be just parents and friends; with Miss Sullivan performing, there are going to be some important people out there. Critical people. And these are students performing, not professional musicians. For that matter, I am no virtuoso either. What if someone loses their place or forgets their cue? What if they sing off-key? What if I…?" 

He stopped abruptly, shaking his head. "I can't allow myself to think about it too much or I'll fly to pieces. You won't tell Nan about this, would you? Everyone is getting nervous as it is."

"Don't worry, I won't. And don't sell yourself so short, Daniel. Aside from persuading Miss Sullivan to sing for the program, you've organized the Preps, canvassed for contributions and arranged the musical choreography for the play. It's a lot to handle, I know, and you've a perfect right to be a little on edge," assured Di. "But only a little, mind- the program can't afford to have you flying to pieces. If you ever feel like it, call me and I'll…"

"…you'll sew me up together again," put in Daniel laughingly. Then his face turned sober. "But do you really mean it, Di?" he asked, with a note of uncertainty in his voice. "Because I will take you up on your offer; there's so much left to do. And it won't be pretty– sometimes rehearsals will be tedious and the Preps will be infuriating and I won't be my cheerful good-natured self. I'll scowl and yell and complain until your ears ring." 

Di grinned at him. Somehow, she couldn't imagine seeing him out of temper. "You don't scare me, Daniel Starke. I don't mind at all. The Ashtons' will be leaving for Montreal in two days and then I'll have plenty of idle time."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," said Daniel jokingly; but he reached for her hand and gave it a grateful squeeze.

Di felt a strange thrill and pulled back hurriedly. "Of course. What are friends for?" she remarked breezily.

****

**4**

For Nan and Daniel and even Di, who attended the final week of rehearsals, the days seemed to pass in a whirl. 

 Di woke up with a fluttery feeling in her stomach. The Christmas program was today! Nan was already up – Di could hear her moving about in the kitchen. 

"Good morning!" greeted Nan as Di entered the kitchen. "Breakfast is on the table. I hope you don't mind that the toast is a little burnt. I was a little distracted while I was cooking."

"I'll say," said Di dryly as she looked at the brownish lump on her plate. Nan shot her a reproachful glance that melted into a laugh as Di took a bite and grimaced. "Very…ah, crunchy." 

"It's breakfast. Nan-style," declared Daniel as he sat down beside her. "Nan let me in a while ago. We were just rehearsing some of her lines." He looked at his plate of watery eggs and gave Nan a playful grin, "Doesn't this make you miss Una?"   

"How can you two expect me to cook properly when I don't even have all my lines memorized yet?" protested Nan, as she bit into her overcooked bacon while furiously studying the script. One of the actresses in the play had sore throat and Nan was acting as the last minute replacement.

"Oh don't worry Nan," said Di, giving her cool hand a squeeze. "You'll make a wonderful Belle. You had almost everything down by heart last night. Let's go through the scenes together after breakfast."

"And if you do forget anything, I'll be in the wings with the script, prompting you," assured Daniel. He took a big gulp of his orange juice. "Now everyone, eat up! We've got a long day ahead of us!"

"I have a favor to ask of you, Di," said Daniel as she washed the dishes. "My sister Katharine and my friend Ryan are arriving here at Kingsport on the twelve-thirty train. Would you mind entertaining them before the concert? You know, eat lunch with them and show them the sights? Kat mentioned that she wanted to do a little Christmas shopping. I'd meet them myself but I have to be at Winslow Hall for the final run-through."

Di agreed readily and watched with a little pang as Nan and Daniel left to get everything ready for tonight. She puttered around the house a little, checking the bags to see if she had forgotten anything for they were leaving for the Glen tomorrow morning. Nan was only half-packed and they would likely spend half the night hurriedly fixing her things. It felt a little strange to have the Bower empty but the thought that she would soon be back among the light and laughter of Ingleside cheered her. 

Suddenly, it occurred to Di that she had not yet gotten Daniel his Christmas present. She resolved to get him one that very afternoon. 

Di met Katharine and Ryan at the station and after dropping off Katharine's overnight valise at Daniel's little flat, they found themselves sitting at one of Di's favorite restaurants for a light lunch. They served delicious French cuisine, which she hoped the two would like. 

Aside from polite remarks about the weather and questions about the carte du jour, the three of them sat in silence at first. Di was eager to know more about the two; one was happy to reciprocate, the other was not. 

Ryan Harper and Di took to each other from the start. Tall, broad shouldered Ryan, about Shirley's age, had an appealing boyish air. There was a mischievous something in his hazel eyes, his mouth turned up at the corners and his black tumbled-tossed curls always looked unruly. He reminded her of Carl somehow; easygoing and full of fun. He joked about his inability to read French and mangled the language badly in ordering his food.

"I've no earthly idea what's on my plate right now," he said jovially as the waiter served his _quiche lorraine_ and _coq au vin_. "Kind of like eating some of Mum's messes- every meal is a surprise and a delight."

Di had less success with Katharine, who sat quietly sipping her French onion soup. She was a very pretty girl, several years younger than Di, with a heart-shaped face, sleek dark brown curls and brilliant sapphire blue eyes. Her dress was a flowered pink print, suggestive of daintiness and appealing femininity. Daniel said that Kat had the sweetest smile in Blue Pearl but if she did, Di had yet to see it. Oh, she was very polite but her manner was very distant – Persis described it as a touch-me-not air. 

Di could not know that Katharine had heard quite a lot about Di from Daniel's letters- perhaps a little too much. Being the baby of the family, Kat was really a tad possessive of her brother's attentions and hated to have a rival in his affections. She looked at Di rather jealously askance- tall, red-haired, lustrous gray-green eyes and a very pretty nose. 

_Not a beauty- but she's got a way about her_, thought Katharine, an admittance that made her feel more jealous than ever.

But poor Di only felt distinctly that Katharine did not like her. 

Di racked her brains for something to say while Katharine picked at her _salade verte_ and finally resorted to that bastion of feminine interest: fashion. 

"That's a pretty dress you're wearing; the embroidery is very fine," Di commented rather clumsily, for flattery was rather contrary to her candid nature. "Your milliner is very talented."

"Why, thank you," said the startled Katharine, blushing rather unexpectedly. "Actually, I designed it myself. It's lovely of you to notice. Do you really think it's pretty?"

"Why yes. There's so much detail- it must have taken a lot of work," Di said sincerely, who could mend clothes capably enough but had no real love for fancy work. She admired the frills and tucks in the dress and inadvertently gave great gratification to Katharine, who had suffered through many a pricked finger and restless moments to complete the elegant stitching. Di belatedly remembered that Katharine was studying fashion design in Montreal.

"Daniel told me that you wanted to design clothes," said Di. "So how are your studies in Montreal?"

Di listened intently, as Katharine talked about living in a boarding house, learning to draw and studying patterns and fashion magazines. Katharine's reserve seemed to fall away as she talked about her creations and her most recent triumph- being allowed to sew the dresses for a cousin's wedding in February.

Despite her moodiness, Katharine was an astute young lady who recognized that Di had no real interest in clothes. She was also sensitive enough to be touched by Di's real efforts to get to know her. Suddenly, it seemed a bit silly of her to mind Daniel liking Diana Blythe – she seemed like a perfectly nice girl. 

Her antagonism rapidly melting away like frost on a sunny morning; Katharine gave Di a small, rather sheepish smile. "Call me Kat. All my friends do," she said shyly and Di recognized that a truce was being offered.

After lunch, the three of them drifted along Victoria Square, a very fashionable place lined with fine shops with interesting curios. Brightly colored carts sat at intervals, selling flowers and roasted chestnuts. At the center of the square was an enormous Christmas tree, decorated with glass balls and silver and gold tinsel. The square was thick with shoppers that day, hurrying from shop to shop and loaded down with parcels.

Di mentioned that she wanted to get a Christmas gift for Daniel; and Kat and Ryan enthusiastically helped in picking out possibilities. 

"Daniel loved traveling. He studied in Vienna for two years, but most summers, he would spend through Europe," commented Kat, as they entered the store called "Traveler's Tales". It was one of Persis' favorite stores for they had a vast collection of travel books, postcards and photographs from all over the globe.

"It was a dream come true for him, you know," commented Ryan, as he leafed through a magazine. "Danny was always restless; bouncing from one thing to another. When we were children, he was always getting into trouble in school because he couldn't keep still." 

"Or keep quiet," added Kat with a grin. "Anyway, his first summer in Europe, he trekked all over Switzerland and France, and for the second one, it was England. He didn't like to write but he would send me postcards nearly everyday. It was his way of keeping in touch. I still have every one of them, tacked up in my wall," she added, a little wistfully. When you had been your brother's darling his whole life, it was hard to lose even a piece of him to any one, even to someone as nice seeming as Diana Blythe.

Still, she approved of Di's choice of a stylized golden statuette of a lion, with deep-set eyes and black, white and gold whorls and stripes on its textured body. The shop owner said it was a miniature version of the lion used in the lion dance in China. The lion reminded Di of Daniel; with his colorful personality, his vital and dramatic energy. 

When they were done with their shopping, the three of them sat at the wooden benches in the Square, Ryan buying the two girls roasted chestnuts and hot chocolate. Both Ryan and Kat took an impish delight in telling Di all about Daniel's escapades. 

"Remember the time he tried to swallow a whistle? Our cousin Zach had him convinced that birds had one in their stomachs that allowed them to chirp. At that time, he had adopted a nest of blue jays and he wanted to learn to talk to them," remarked Kat with a giggle, as she took a sip of hot chocolate from her steaming cup. 

"And there was the time our old gang wanted to make our own wine. We stomped grapes until our feet were all purple," reminisced Ryan. "Then we realized that we didn't really want to drink something we had our feet in. And Daniel accidentally stained his new Sunday suit so had the brilliant idea of dyeing it in the grape juice so Aunt Bess wouldn't see."

"How surprised Mother was when he walked downstairs that Sunday in his bright purple suit," added Kat with a laugh.

"I'm surprised he wanted to even wear it, out in public," commented Di. "He always seemed especially concerned with wearing the right clothes; all the way down to the matching tie. He even wears gloves all the time. Does he always dress so formally?"

Ryan and Kat looked at each other, then Kat shrugged and said, "Vanity always was his greatest weakness." Then she quickly changed the subject, asking about the Glen and Four Winds. Di replied amiably, though she got the sense that Kat and Ryan wanted to avoid the subject.

**5**

The three of them had a light supper at the corner café; and then there was the fun of dressing up for the Christmas program, which they did at the Bower. Usually Di relied on Nan to help her get ready; her twin loved to fuss with her clothes and hair, never really outgrowing the dress-up games they played as children. This time, it was Kat who did the honor, doing Di's hair up in the most fashionable way and giving her a pretty navy blue hat with black netting and a spray of white buds. 

"It looks so much better on you than it does on me, Di," commented Kat when Di had protested wearing it. "Your red hair sets it off so well. Keep it as a Christmas present; the only thing nicer than creating clothes is watching someone actually wear it. It's such a thrill to me."

Di accepted with thanks, but despite Kat's attentions, she still felt a little pang as Kat arranged Ryan's tie for him and the way he offered her his arm– there was such a familiar, homelike feel to that. It was a relief when Jerry knocked on the door with a car borrowed from his friend to take them to the concert.

Daniel met them as they took their seats at Winslow Hall. Di thought he looked especially handsome in his dress shirt, crisp collar and slim trousers. 

"Did you enjoy yourselves this afternoon?" asked Daniel. "I hope you behaved yourself, Kat."

"We told Di all about your escapades when we were children," replied Kat with a provoking grin.

For a wonder, Daniel actually blushed but he retorted cheekily enough, "You, dear sister, are going to get a lump of coal this Christmas."

"This place is real fancy," said Ryan with a low whistle as he looked around the concert hall. "Far cry from our programs in Blue Pearl eh? I hope everything goes well, Daniel. If you get nervous, just look over here. We'll be cheering for you."

"Thanks but I don't get nervous," replied Daniel with a wink at Di.

"That's my Danny! Nerves of steel," murmured Kat admiringly.

Di would have agreed if she hadn't noticed the way Daniel's kept fiddling with his tie. "Ten minutes til lights out," he muttered. "I'd better go backstage. Enjoy everybody and I'll see you after the show."

Then the lights dimmed and the theater was filled with expectant silence. The first soft strain of music filled the theater like the whisper of a faint promise as Daniel, bathed in silvery moonlight, began to play the opening bars to 'O Holy Night'.

It was a magical program, from start to finish. With the competitions for roles over, the soloists shone with their whole-souled performances. The audience laughed as Alice Gibson and May Palmer played the game of singing one-upmanship with comic intensity. Miss Sullivan's performance was magnificent, her rich voice captivating even the harshest critic. The final number ended in a medley by the entire Prep class, whose voices blended as harmoniously as any angelic choir. 

Despite having attended the rehearsals, Di found herself watching as if seeing everything for the first time. She found herself swaying and singing along with the performers and beside her, Jerry in his tone-deaf voice was doing the same. 

The Christmas play was no less successful. The audience reacted as any spellbound audience would, laughing and crying and cheering at the right places. Jerry's place glowed with pride at Nan's performance and he slipped out during intermission to buy her a bouquet of lilies. Kat went with him and returned with a bunch of marigolds.

"They're Daniel's favorite," she explained, as Di hurriedly signed the card.

The second act was as wonderful as the first and when the play ended, the cast took their bows to thunderous applause. Di clapped until her ears rang when Nan took her curtain call, but she was surprised when Dr. Fellows was credited as musical choreographer for the play. She knew that it had been Daniel's job- in fact, he had played the background music for the play's dress rehearsal two days ago.

After everyone had been acknowledged, Principal Mather stepped onstage to announce that the program had earned more than two thousand dollars for the orphanage. The audience rose in a standing ovation and the performers generally retired covered in laurels. 

Di, Jerry, Kat and Ryan stayed after the performance to wait for Nan and Daniel. Nan emerged first and engulfed Di and Jerry in an excited hug, demanding first, to know how they liked the program and second, how they liked her performance. 

"Oh, I suppose it was all right," Jerry answered with a sly, sidelong glance at her. 

Nan punched him in the arm and then said indignantly, "Jerry Meredith, I have half a mind to let Myron Reddings walk me home. He said I was _magnificent_." She smiled coyly, twirling a long stemmed rose in her hand as if in challenge. 

Jerry laughed as he tossed the rose aside and presented her with his bouquet of lilies. "Truce, my lady fair. You know I think you were great, Nan. But if you want to hear more, you'll have to walk home with me."

"I thought it was generally the ladies who play hard to get," Nan replied archly, as she placed a lily in her dark hair and took his arm. They walked off, still bantering.

"That's just their way of lovering," explained Di to the wondering Kat and Ryan.   

"I understand. The fun in arguing is that you get to kiss and make-up later," said Kat, grinning at Ryan. 

"I'd rather forego the arguing and go straight to the kissing part," he responded cheekily.

Daniel emerged from backstage smiling in both happiness and relief, his eyes surrounded by such jolly crinkles. He crushed Kat in a bear hug and swung her around ecstatically as she squeaked her congratulations. Di was second but his greeting was no less enthusiastic. 

"You were a wizard up there, Danny. Far cry from your old concerts when we were kids. Aunt Elizabeth would have been proud," exclaimed Ryan, as he thumped Daniel's back so hard that he almost dropped the bouquet of marigolds.

The three of them showered him with compliments on the program as they walked home, Jerry and Nan having gone ahead in the car. It was a beautiful December evening and the evidence of Christmas was everywhere. The trees were lit with strings of Christmas lights and doors and windows were wreathed with greenery. Occasionally, they caught the spicy whiff of apple cider.

They were paired off after a fashion; Di walked with Daniel and Kat with Ryan. 

"Your piano solo was delightful," commented Di. "But I was surprised that they named Dr. Fellows the musical choreographer for the play. Why did they give him the credit for it?"

"Well, actually he _was_ the one who played the accompaniment during tonight's performance," admitted Daniel with a shrug.  "I figured, why not? It would get him off my back and it was less work for me."

"I was under the impression that you enjoyed working on the music for the play. You did so well during the dress rehearsal," said Di slowly. She was also under the impression that Daniel was disappointed–why had he been replaced at the last minute? -  but was trying not to show it. 

"It wasn't that important," said Daniel dismissively. 

"I can't quite realize that it's over," she said after an awkward silence, as they turned from to Nightingale Lane. This wasn't turning out as well as she had imagined.  "So what are you doing after Christmas vacation?" she asked with an air of putting it all behind her.  

"I suppose I'll go back home. Kat told me that there were a few families interested in music lessons so I suppose I could teach," he replied noncommittally. "But nothing's really been decided yet."   

"Well, we're going to miss you," she said in what she hoped was a casual voice. "I mean, Grace would. She would have wanted to say goodbye," she added quickly. 

He didn't answer for a long while, his eyes fixed on something she couldn't see. She hated this- suddenly, he seemed so far away! It was as if he'd already left. 

"Maybe I don't want to say goodbye," Daniel finally said, his voice suddenly rich with mysterious meaning.  Di's heart didn't skip a beat; it gave an enormous thump.  

They reached the Bower's front stoop. Di wanted to tell him that _she_ did not want to say goodbye either; she was about to invite him in for a bite when Daniel stopped her. 

"Look," he said, pointing to the doorframe.

There was a sprig of mistletoe, left there by playful Persis. Di had forgotten to take it down.

"You know the rules," he said lightly, pulling her closer with inviting, questioning golden eyes.

He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Di felt the pressure of his lips but briefly, but its touch on her heart lingered. It brought them together with a dizzying closeness. It _was_ one of little things that had enormous consequences- and this time, self-effacing Di _was_ going to be dramatic.

She liked Daniel Starke; oh, she liked him very much. More than she had ever liked Marcus – _had_ there been a Marcus? And he liked her too.

For a moment, the two of them stood staring at each other, drinking each other in very foolishly but delightedly. 

How beautiful Di's gray-green eyes were in the moonlight, like leaves shining in the mist. How was it that he had never noticed it before? Daniel was conscious of the fact that Kat and Ryan, who stood by the gate, were pretending not to know a thing all the while looking and listening furiously. _Well, let them stare_, he thought. He had so little time left after all.

"I hate that I have to leave right now, but before I go…I got you a Christmas present," he said shyly, giving her a brightly wrapped little box. 

"I have one for you too," said Di, offering hers with a wistful smile. "I wish I could see you open it."

"Me too, but I don't want to rush through it," he said, his great golden eyes warm. "Why don't we open each other's gifts at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve? If we do it at the same time, it'll almost be like we're spending Christmas together," suggested Daniel.

"Almost," replied Di, shaking her head with a sigh. "I wish you weren't leaving." 

"Me too. But I'll write gobs of letters. Tell you everything about Christmas at Blue Pearl.  And I'll save my money and come up to visit you at Kingsport," said Daniel hopefully, with a squeeze of his hand. "But for now, we really must go. We have to catch the early train."

"I know. And I have to help Nan pack," said Di ruefully. And because she wanted him to leave with a smile on his face, she added impishly. " Go home, Daniel Starke. And get there quickly, will you? Because the sooner you get home, the sooner you can start writing to me."

"All right, all right, I'll go," exclaimed Daniel, pretending to be angry. "But you can't get rid of me that easily. We _will_ be together soon. And like the proper gentleman that I am, I'll see you home again."

Di laughed, thinking on Jerry and Nan's playful banter- _just their way of lovering_, she had explained. She hadn't known anything about it then. How nice it felt! 

Lovely Diana! What a brick she was! Daniel was so enchanted by her laughter that he gave her another quick kiss that left her tingling. "Now, I really have to go before Kat and Ryan burst from curiosity," Daniel said with a smile, as he flew down the front step. 

They were unromantic parting words – but Di was very glad to hear them because they weren't saying goodbye. 


	11. Christmas at Ingleside

A/N:

Just Me: Thanks again for the suggestions. I'll try to incorporate more period stuff in the next chapters!

Crescent Moon: Glad you like the character of Daniel, there'll be more revealed about him later in the story )

anonymous 327, BaiLing, Nie Starwhistler, on-fire-for-Christ, PhiloNysh, Starrika, crescent-moon, Gufa, Anna: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you'll like the next chapter – pls. review I would love to hear more of everyone's comments.

Chapter 11: Christmas at Ingleside 

**1**

There was Christmas magic working in the air of Ingleside as well. Anne sat at the veranda with a lapful of greens, putting together the finishing touches on Ingleside's Christmas decoration. She was weaving leaf and bough, blossom and ivy into a gorgeous green snake, which was to adorn their porch with their verdant splendor.

_Like a fairy bower in a sea of white frost_, she thought with satisfaction. No Christmas had ever seemed so joyous, so festive as this one was going to be, finally freed from the specter of war and separation that had clouded the Christmases of years past.

Susan sat beside her, sewing rompers that were to be her Christmas present to Jims.

"It's going to be a regular Merry Christmas for us, isn't it Mrs. Doctor dear?" declared Susan comfortably as she hemmed. "With the Fords coming and the manse folk over for Christmas dinner."

"There's going to be such a crowd, we'll barely know where to put them," said Anne smilingly, as she stood to wind the green garlands, gaily dressed with silver bells and bright ribbons, around the trellis. "I'm so glad that Leslie and Owen have decided to spend Christmas here instead of in Toronto. It's been awhile since I've had a good chat with Leslie and Owen – not to mention that I miss my baby, Rilla."

"Well, now that she is getting married to Ken Ford, it's time that she gets to know their relations. You can never be too careful with the family you marry into. And you never know with those city folks."

"She seemed to have enjoyed herself, judging from her letters. And speaking of letters, I just received one from Gertrude Oliver – no, Gertrude Grant now – this morning. She and her husband will be coming over for dinner as well. So that will be two more places at the table, Susan."

"It's well that you've told me now, Mrs. Doctor Dear. It behooves us to plan ahead with our tables full to overflowing. It's a good thing that the twins will be here today- I could use more hands in the kitchen."

"Don't worry, Susan dear, we'll be ready. Faith has volunteered to help us also, in place of Rosemary- she's quite well but Gilbert thought she'd be better of resting tomorrow, instead of slaving in front of a hot stove."

Susan looked rather dubious of this help. "Are you sure, Mrs. Doctor dear, that it's quite _safe_…"

"Oh, Susan, surely there won't be a repeat of _that_," Anne exclaimed laughingly, remembering one memorable incident with chili peppers, stew and Faith Meredith. "Faith has been taking lessons from Rosemary when she isn't helping Gilbert as a nurse – you know that she means to be married as soon as Jem gets through his course in medicine. She's made quite a lot of progress."

Anne looked at Jem and Faith, who were busily building a family of snow people on the Ingleside back yard, laughing like children. Faith's golden-brown hair streamed down her back and her cheeks were rosy from the cool air and Jem's hazel eyes twinkled as he surveyed their work.

There were three of them. The tallest one had curly hair made of carrot skins tucked under his cap. Beside him was a snow woman with golden ribbons for her hair and a scarlet scarf wrapped around her neck. Jem and Faith had argued over the third – Jem had wanted it to be a girl, Faith a boy. In the end, Jem capitulated and a carrot curled snow toddler materialized between the snow couple.

The two had just finished posing with the little snow family, with Anne twining the last piece of the garland, when Gilbert arrived. He had gone to fetch Jerry and the twins from the train station.

"Gilbert dear!" called Anne as she flew down the lane to meet him and the twins. "Where have you been? I was expecting you an hour ago," she said reproachfully as Gilbert put an arm around her shoulder.

"Since we had to stop by the manse to drop off Jerry, I thought I'd check on Rosemary," explained Gilbert as he planted a light kiss on Anne's curly head.

"Ah, my husband, the devoted doctor," declared Anne with a smile.

"I know, I know. I'm on vacation and should stop overworking myself," said Gilbert good-naturedly.

Anne then turned to her twin daughters. Nan, who had gotten out of the car first, gave her an exuberant hug.

"Oh but its nice to be home for the holidays!" she exclaimed gaily. "Dear Ingleside, I've missed you so!" She skipped down the path in her old, joyous way, stopping to kiss the columbines by the gate.

_Still as much a girl as ever_, thought Anne fondly.

Di leaned in with a warm kiss on Anne's cheek. Anne took a good look at her red-haired daughter, so like her in looks if not in temperament. Anne's discerning eye noted with pleasure that she seemed much improved – her green-gray eyes were bright, her lips smiling. Why, even her very step seemed lighter.

_Perhaps a vacation from Ingleside… and it memories… was just what she needed_, Anne thought.

The four of them, plus Jem, Faith and Susan, settled down for a light lunch. Nan chattered gaily about all their doings in Kingsport and Edgewood, with Di putting an occasional word in about the Ashtons'. One name was repeated enough times to make Anne take notice.

"Who is this Daniel that Di kept talking about?" asked Anne as she and Nan did the dishes.

"Oh, he's a good friend of ours- a wonderful pianist. He and Di are very close," explained Nan.

"Are you sure they're just friends? Or are they _friends_ like your father and I were, back in Redmond?" asked Anne, her voice trailing significantly.

Nan's hazel eyes widened and she chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I never really thought about him that way, Mother. He's awfully popular with the girls – I didn't think he would be at all Di's type."

There was a similar topic of conversation between Jem and Faith as he walked her to the manse.

"She adores that boy," declared Faith, as they strolled under the shadows of the birch grove.

"Who? Aaron?"

"No, silly. Daniel!" exclaimed Faith. "She didn't say it in so many words- Di isn't one to gush, but I could tell that she likes him."

"Daniel Starke?" repeated Jem, surprised and perplexed.

"Yes, Daniel Starke," said Faith, giving him a playful pinch on the cheek. "Oh, you oblivious men! What would you do if you didn't have us womenfolk about? So tell me, what is this Daniel like?"

Jem frowned thoughtfully. He had mentioned Daniel before in an offhand way as a friendly fellow, lively and popular with the ladies, but given this new information to digest Jem was suddenly forced to see him in an entirely new light.

"Now Jem, don't you go charging in and acting like the big brother on Di. I just said that she likes him, that's all. There's no talk of marriage yet," Faith warned laughingly.

Jem grinned. "Well, I suppose it's to early to give Daniel the same talk I gave Jerry. And Di can take care of herself – it's not as if she's Nan."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Di's always been more practical. Nan's awfully romantic- I was half-afraid when she went off to Redmond that some romantic wolf would come along and sweep her off her feet. But Di now, she can take care of herself. She's so sensible."

But sensible was not how one would describe Di as she lay sprawled on the bed in her and Nan's old room, reading a letter scrawled on a sheet ripped out of a music book.

Daniel had kept his word about his writing – she had found it stuffed in her mailbox that morning just as they were leaving for P.E. Island. It was written hurriedly, in Daniel's careless fashion, with all sorts of crooked letters, crossed out words and blotches at the corner. He was not a gifted writer – he had always said that he thought faster than he could ever write so that the words spilled out on the page helter-skelter. But it was a funny, breezy epistle, full of jokes, except for the last few lines, which made Di thrill and blush to the roots of her red hair. In it were proof that last night's events had not been a dream, and for those few lines – not eloquent, but so splendidly sincere – Di cherished that little note.

She reread it with relish and then sat up. Di looked at her face, reflected on the vanity mirror. Why, she was looking almost pretty, with a rosy blush drowning out her freckles and her green-gray eyes sparkling. Her hair was still red but just at that moment she had a soul above red hair.

At the sound of the opening door, she hurriedly stuffed the letter in her pocket.

"There you are, Di Blythe!" exclaimed Nan. "Why do you look so happy all of a sudden?"

"What are you talking about Nan?" asked Di innocently. "We're home in Ingleside with two weeks of glorious vacation to look forward to. We're having the Merediths and the Fords over for dinner tomorrow – all our dearest friends in one place. I can't wait to catch up with them, don't you?" And that was true… well, maybe not the entire truth… but true nonetheless.

"Oh, I am excited to have everyone together again. But Mother thought…" Nan's voice trailed off as she studied Di's face. "Never mind, I suppose she was just imagining things," she said, more to herself than to Di.

_Besides, Di would tell me if there anything important had happened,_ Nan thought.

Aloud, she said, "Well, I think I'll go get changed now. Mind you don't lie down on the bed, Di, until you get out of those dusty clothes," she called as she left the room.

"All right," said Di, concealing the little bulge in her pocket that the letter made. She didn't know why, but she just didn't want Nan – or anyone else – to know about it yet. The letter, that little kiss under the mistletoe… Di felt a tiny thrill. To have a little romance of her own was such a delicious secret.

Surely, Nan wouldn't grudge her that much. Nan had had crushes and flirtations round the clock since they were thirteen. She knew what it was all about. It hadn't been that way with Di. Oh, there had been a boy or two in her past, who walked her home and took her to dances but those were harmless children's larks.

She hadn't minded her own lack of romantic experiences… not really. She had been content to live vicariously through her sister and Faith's escapades. But Di had to admit that it was wonderful to finally not be behind it all. And now that she had a taste of it, she found that she wanted to savor it for a little while.

_I suppose there's no harm in letting Mother and Nan wonder a little bit,_ Di thought impishly. It made her a little less predictable.

In defiance of Nan's dictum, Di flopped down on the bed, hugging a flowered pillow in her arm as she read the letter for the fifth time that day.

**2**

Dinner, in honor of the twins' and Shirley's homecoming, was a glorious affair. Shirley was arriving aboard the evening train; and Susan declared that her little brown boy would have the best of everything for his first night home since the fall. She spent all afternoon in the kitchen cooking the most sumptuous dishes and even persuaded Anne to use the second best china.

"He wrote to me the other day about attending a banquet at some fancy hotel," said Susan, as she sat down to rest while the pie baked in the oven. "But you cannot convince me that those fashionable cold buffets taste better than home cooking and that you may tie to."

Shirley arrived just as everyone was sitting down to dinner that evening. Anne, who went to answer the door, greeted him a little anxiously. She had not heard much from Shirley; of late, his letters had been short and infrequent. A few dark smudges under his eyes were testimony to his hard work during the examinations and his usually rosy cheeks were pale from tiredness.

"Nice to be home again, Mother. It's seems like ages since I've been here. Don't have them get up – I'll just get changed and be right down," he said softly, after giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

Still, his chocolate brown eyes gleamed appreciatively as he sat down at the table. All of his favorites were laid out in state; roast beef with rich mushroom gravy, a light cream of corn soup, a lemon pie with a beautiful golden-brown crust and dollops of cream.

"What a spread, Susan!" he exclaimed in a livelier tone, as they passed him the plate of savoury smelling beef.

"Nonsense, Shirley. It is my opinion that good food is the best welcome home. Do you think I'd allow you to starve in that boardinghouse of yours?" scolded Susan, disturbed at finding him not as sturdy and rosy as he usually was, as she ladled a generous helping of gravy.

"I wouldn't call it starving exactly- the boards are a little lean but they're mostly monotonous. Una sends us a hamper lots of time and Carl and I ration it for as long as we could," he said dryly. "But a few meals like this is just what I need to hearten me up."

"So how is your internship?" asked Gilbert.

"Fine," answered Shirley, between bites of dinner. "We mostly help with the paperwork and sometimes, with the accounting at the end of the day but I'm learning more working there than I ever could in the classroom. Mr. Tate has been really helpful; he's been teaching me a lot about the ins-and-outs of banking."

"And Mrs. Tate's daughter?" asked Nan with a sly grin.

"Oh, Jasmine. I was going to wait until dessert but since Nan beat me to it…" Shirley made a face at Nan and then continued, "You remember her from my letters, don't you Mum and Dad? She wanted to come over today but the Tates' are spending Christmas with her relatives in Vancouver. I was thinking that maybe she could come by for New Years', if that's all right?"

Nan and Di exchanged glances; everyone else around the table was suddenly silent. If Shirley was talking about introducing Jasmine to the family, then was he also thinking about…?

_…marriage?_ Anne was a little startled at the prospect. Shirley was only twenty-one. She thought he was years away from that.

Gilbert and Anne agreed, though they were trying not to betray their surprise.

"So what have you all been up to lately?" Shirley asked, not a whit ruffled by their reactions. "I'm sorry I haven't been writing much – my studies and my internships takes so much time."

As conversation slowly resumed around the table, Anne found herself watching Shirley closely. Jem and the twins talked over their plans for the holidays, Shirley listening with interest but otherwise not speaking. Anne supposed that he was tired; and Shirley had always been the quiet child.

But as he questioned Nan about the Christmas program- he hadn't been in to see it because of his Economics exam – Anne surmised that he saw very little of Nan and Di, despite the fact that they were all staying at Kingsport. And didn't Carl, who was rooming with Shirley, mention the other day that Shirley often arrived late in the evening on weekdays and spent weekends away on New Brunswick?

"It's my opinion that the poor boy has been working himself too hard," lamented Susan to herself as she cleared the dinner table. "Working and studying at the same time! No wonder he hasn't time to write- though it seems that he has enough time to go courting this Jasmine person," she ended with a sniff. She would never admit to being a little miffed at her little brown boy, but if he was going to drop a bombshell like that, Susan thought that she deserved a little advance warning.

_But if he is serious about this girl, then I would be glad to meet her_, Susan thought staunchly, though she was not without a little secret fear that her little brown boy would not be hers much longer.

Over at the parlour, Gilbert was saying, "Anne-o-mine, you were very quiet over dinner. Is something bothering you, sweetheart?"

"I was just thinking about Shirley's little announcement," replied Anne with a sigh as she wrapped up her present for Gertrude Grant and her husband. "Our youngest son, Gilbert!"

"I must admit that it was a surprise to me as well," said Gilbert candidly. "I thought it would take him some time to get settled in his studies. And haven't they met but four months ago?"

"Yes- when classes began. Shirley said they were classmates in his Economics class. And since Jasmine's father owns the bank where Shirley works as an intern, they have been seeing a lot of each other. But I always thought…" Anne hesitated, feeling a little embarrassed at her own opinion. "…that Shirley would be the bachelor of the family. Now don't grin like that, Gil! Remember, he was never much interested in girls when he was younger and he was so quiet when it came to dances and affairs like that. But don't tell Susan, Gil- she'd be furious."

"Mums the word," agreed Gilbert. "But I've always thought that there was more to Shirley than meets the eye, Anne-girl. My father, John, was that way – sturdy, dependable but he felt things very deeply. Now I am just going to have a talk with Jem and then I'll go straight to bed."

After Gilbert left, Anne sat by herself for a while longer, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the shadowy dance of the flames on their papered wall. She thought about Shirley and Jasmine Tate, and the lingering feeling of surprise that she felt.

She wondered why she had been so astounded- she really shouldn't have been if she had paid more attention to Shirley, or rather, his letters. Sporadic as they had been, they were full of little hints, peppered with little mentions of her… _Jasmine and I were at the museum…. yesterday, Jasmine packed a picnic lunch for me… Jas and I were working on our paper… … __I took Jas to see "The Miracle Man" at the cinema_ _the other day._ There had even been a series of snaps that came the other week, when his class had attended a conference on International Trade. Shirley and Jasmine stood next to each other in every photo.

Anne grinned to herself as she stood up and gave herself a plain talking-to. "Now admit it, Anne Blythe, that you are feeling just a little bit foolish tonight. Admit that you thought yourself the perfect mother, who knew her children so well. Admit that you felt like you were outwitted by dear Shirley, who you thought… _wrongly_… the most prosaic and predictable of the clan. And having admitted all this, go on to your bed and think what questions you will ask your enigmatic Shirley on the morrow. Oh, now that I'm over my initial flabbergast, there _will_ be questions!"

****

**3**

The inquisition descended upon Shirley the very next morning. Apparently, everyone else had gotten over their shock at his announcement during the night and was now ready for some answers. Shirley didn't know whether to laugh or cry as he sat the breakfast table with the entire family looking at him with curious eyes. The only one who looked disinterested was Dad and that was only because Mother would be telling him the entire story anyway.

Of course, the Blythes knew better than to ask Shirley anything during the meal- they knew that he hated being the center of attention. The result being that each member of the family tried to corner Shirley with some fabricated and often ludicrous reason.

"The Tates are a very respectable family, Susan," Shirley said, as he and Susan had their little interview in the kitchen, under guise of taste-testing some newfangled dessert Susan was preparing for Christmas dinner. "They own the Bank of New Brunswick, which is the second largest bank in NB. And her mother is the second cousin of some earl in England."

"Oh, so its blue-blood they're claiming for a pedigree," commented Susan, suitably impressed but trying not to show it. "Well, elegance is all right in its place but its sense that a wife should be having."

"Sense? Oh, Jasmine has scads of that. She never does anything unexpected," assured Shirley, though he felt a little queer at the mention of a wife. "Don't think that we're the kind of couple who spend all their time gazing at the moon 'til our brains turn to mush. No, Jas and I are both too sensible a pair for that."

And later… "Jasmine's a wonderful girl, Mother. She loves fun but she's very clever and ambitious- a real modern woman," said Shirley, as he held some tinsel in one hand and a tack in the other as he and Anne stood in the parlor. She had asked him to help with last minute decorations for the parlour. "She says that stay at home women are outdated; nowadays, it's all about a career. She expects to be very involved in running the bank when she graduates- she's an only child you know."

And then after lunch…"Maybe I should come up with a press release," Shirley remarked to Nan a little dryly, as he repeated the story of how he and Jasmine met for the third time. Nan had not even bothered with an excuse, just whisked him off for a walk in the garden without further ado. "It's not very romantic… we were introduced to each other in class. I looked at her, she looked at me… and then bingo!… we knew we were made for each other."

"Really?"

"No, but I thought you would like that version better," responded Shirley, his brown eyes twinkling.

"Shir-_ley_! " Nan groaned in outrage.

"All right, all right! I actually borrowed a book from her for our Economics class during the second day of school," Shirley recited calmly. "Then Dr. Jennings gave us this really difficult assignment and I offered to help her with some problems. After that, we set up a couple of study dates and then I was chosen for the internship at her father's bank…" He shrugged. "It just happened, you know. We spend a lot of time together."

Nan frowned and Shirley felt a trickle of annoyance. He guessed that she was disappointed with his story. So had Mother and Susan.

_What do they want- a love affair of Shakespearean proportions?_ he thought a little sourly.

"But do you love Jasmine?" she asked.

Mother and Susan had asked that too; and he had answered that question easily enough…rather too easily, he thought. He had imagined that he would feel nervous, or thrilled, admitting to such a thing. That his heart would race and there would be butterflies in his stomach. That was how it was in books, wasn't it?

But he replied, very coolly and steadily, "I care for her. I love being with her. And I want you all to meet her so you would like her as much as I do," he said, by way of ending the discussion.

Shirley was still thinking about his answer as he walked with Una to the pond. There had been a light snowfall in the night and the Merediths had invited the Blythes for an afternoon ice-skating spree. He and Una always spent time together on such occasions. Shirley was glad for the diversion. He was sure that she would not pester him with questions.

Shirley looked at the happy couples out on the ice - Jem and Faith, Nan and Jerry –as he and Una sat down on a fallen log next to the fire. Nan and Jerry were holding hands, as they skated around the pond in slow circles. Jem and Faith were racing each other, their jests and laughter rising in the air.

_Maybe someday, Jas and I will look like that_, Shirley thought a little wistfully. He really did care for Jasmine a lot.

But neither he nor Jasmine had ever said the word love. In their quiet moments together, he felt that he should. He was sure that Jasmine would love to hear it, was waiting to hear it. So why didn't he say it?

_Perhaps I'm just waiting for the right moment,_ thought Shirley. Surely, when that moment came, he would be able to say it.

And what was he doing anyway, second-guessing himself and what he felt? All those questions must have addled his brains. Everything had been going so well. In a week, Jasmine would be at the Glen. He had written to her last night, inviting her to come to Ingleside for New Year's. He was sure that she would accept especially since she was the one who had insisted in the first place.

Of course, the visit itself brought a host of other problems to his attention.

Intuitive Una, noticing his anxiety, thought to comfort him with a warm cup of cocoa and the timid query, "Are you missing Jasmine? Nan told me that she was coming to the Glen for a visit at New Year's. You must be very excited to see her."

If it had been any other person, Shirley would have been annoyed at the interruption. But there was something about Una's smiling, shyly inviting face and serious dark blue eyes that invited confidence. Shirley was sure he could speak to her about his worries more honestly than to anyone else, even Mother. Una _listened_ without ever making you feel that she was thinking something else in the back of her head.

"I am excited to see Jasmine but just at this moment, I'm actually a little nervous about her visiting the Glen," he admitted. "Its so peaceful and quiet here. I'm not sure she'd like it."

"What do you mean?" asked Una in puzzlement. She gazed at the lovely scenery around them- the panorama of blue sky, the crystal sheen of the pond, the crispness of the snowy day. Una thought it all perfectly beautiful.

"I don't mean that she would hate it here exactly. But she's never come out to the country before. She's used to taking her vacations in Boston and Paris and going out to movies and dances. I guess I just don't know how she'll like it out here."

"Oh but I'm sure she'll enjoy herself. You can show her all sorts of dear spots that she'll never find in town," said Una innocently. "And if she misses the city, we do have the new cinema so she can see a pictures or two. And there's the New Year's dance at the lighthouse. Adam Crawford is bringing his victrola and his record collection. I'm sure she would lobe to go to that."

"Well, I guess I could bring her to all those things. Maybe she'll enjoy the change of pace," said Shirley hopefully. He could not really express to Una how different the quiet affairs of the Glen were from the grand functions that Jasmine was used to, which were frequented by all the elite and moneyed families of New Brunswick. Jasmine was used to long debates about the latest developments in art and psychology, graced banquets at hotels and had an exclusive box at the most opulent theatre in New Brunswick. After all the glitter of the city, where there was always some event to attend, wouldn't the Glen seem rather… dull?

But he didn't want Una to get the wrong impression about Jasmine before she's even met her – Una who was so simple, so free from any kind of snobbishness. "What about you, Una? Are you going to the dance with anyone special?"

Una shook her head, thinking sadly of Walter. There was no one- there could be no one- for her yet.

"You're a jewel of a girl, Una," said Shirley gently. And she was. Una did not flirt or dazzle like other girls but she had an odd charm of her own. Not exactly pretty, but very sweet- especially now in her pale blue sweater that brought out the gloss of her dark hair and the redness of her lips. "And one day, some lucky man will find it out."

He stood up and offered Una his arm, trying to make up for her downcast look. "Now let's go out for a spin on the ice. The others can tend to the fire for awhile."

Una watched as Carl sped by, with Faith's scarf fluttering in his triumphant hand and Faith herself in hot pursuit. Una clasped Shirley's hand with a shake of her head, trying to banish thoughts of the only boy she ever loved, as they wended their slow way around the pond.

Una was not the only one thinking of Walter. Di too, underneath her laughter and smiles, was missing him. _If Walter was here_, Di thought, _he would probably be off skating by himself with his eyes on the trees, meditating a poem_. It was such a beautiful winter afternoon.

She looked at the scene before her- Carl was constructing some sort of obstacle course with flags in the middle of the ice and Jem, Jerry and Faith stood off to the side, eager to race through it. Nan was skating by herself, executing twirls and spins with ease. _Imagining that she was a figure skater perhaps_, thought Di. Shirley and Una were off by themselves as was their wont in these affairs.

Di felt a pang of loneliness. It was a strange feeling; to be lonely when one wasn't alone. It would be so lovely to have some really kindred spirit with her to share all this beauty with- how many winter days had she spent in the Glen with Walter by her side? Suddenly, unbidden, Daniel's laughing face drifted into her thoughts.

"Di darling!" Di started as a blue mittened hand clasped her shoulder. "Jerry and the others are getting up some game- they're choosing teams now. Let's go join them. And afterwards, we could take a snowshoe tramp together, you and I, like we did when we were children."

Di smiled affectionately at her twin. "What about Jerry? I think he was looking forward to spending some time with you."

"Hang Jerry- you come first," Nan stated firmly. Dear Nan! Her twin would never let her be lonely. "And absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? Let him go without for a little while."

Absence makes the heart grow fonder… that was certainly the case for her and Daniel. For a moment, she was almost tempted to whisper to Nan her little secret...

"Come on, you two!" trumpeted Carl's merry cry. "The game's about to start."

Di closed her mouth as they skated off to join the others. There would be plenty of time for confidences later.

Meanwhile, Jerry and Faith, the team captains, were choosing sides – and despite the fact that she could skate better than both them, Nan and Jem were picked ahead of her. Di was not really surprised; she was used to it. Though she couldn't help thinking, as she crouched in a huddle with her team, what fun it would be if Daniel was here with the gang. She could picture him so easily, with his infectious smile and sparkling amber eyes, showing off in his skates. Daniel would be right in the thick of the games- in fact if he were here, she was sure that he would demand to be the captain of his own team…

…_and of course_, Di thought with a grin, _he would pick me first_.

**4**

Nan and Di returned to Ingleside late in the afternoon. Jem and Faith had lingered to watch the sunset over Rainbow Valley, Jerry and Carl had gone to the station to pick up the Fords and the Grants and Shirley and Una went to the House of Dreams to get things ready for the occupants.

There were quite a few last minute errands to do at Ingleside- Christmas cookies to be baked for dinner and presents to be wrapped and arranged under the tree.

"Remember the time we sneaked out of bed in the middle of the night, to check if Santa had eaten the cookies we left him?" asked Nan as she tied a bright red ribbon over her gift for Jem.

"I remember," replied Di with a grin. "That was your idea- and as soon as we reached the parlour, you never even glanced at the plate! You made a beeline for the stockings and tried to sneak a peek."

"I did so take a glance- there were only a few crumbs left. And what was wrong with a little peep at the Christmas goodies?" exclaimed Nan cheekily.

"You never did have any patience, you monkey," commented Di with a playful pinch at Nan's cream cheek. "Do you remember that Christmas we stayed up until midnight with Jem? He took us outside to look for reindeer tracks in the snow. It was such a lot of fun too; at least until Father came out to get us. He looked so angry when he saw out in the cold in our pajamas!"

"But he didn't have the heart to scold- not at Christmas Eve. Dad's really just an old softy," giggled Nan.

"We have had some delightful Christmases here, haven't we?" said Di softly as she glanced around the parlour in its Christmas dress. "Well, that's the last of them," she said as she placed her gift for Rilla- a lovely soft green cashmere scarf – at the top of the pile.

"Not quite. The Merediths, the Grants and the Fords will be here by tonight so I suspect there'll be a few additions."

Actually there was one more gift that Di could have added, hidden away in the recesses of her night table. Daniel's gift, which she had promised to open at midnight… _I guess this will be the third time I'll be sneaking out of bed on Christmas eve..._ thought Di as she left the parlour to get dressed for dinner.

Christmas Eve found Ingleside filled with chatter, laughter and good smells. Susan, Mrs. Blythe and the twins had cooked up a veritable banquet, and for once there were so many guests that not even a dining room as spacious as Ingleside could hold all of them. Anne quickly improvised by setting up another small table at the parlour.

Ingleside had never seen such a gala affair. In the dining room sat Mr. and Mrs. Blythe, Jem and Faith, Nan and Jerry, Mr. and Mrs. Ford, Rev. Meredith and his wife, Norman and Ellen Douglas, Mr and Mrs. Elliot, and Susan. Mr. and Mrs. Grant, Ken and Rilla, Mary and Douglas Miller and the rest of the Meredith and Blythe young fry sat at the second table.

The guests talked one on top of the other, while somehow still managing to give credit to the excellent food. Mr. and Mrs. Blythe did a lot of catching up with the Fords, especially with regards to Owen's recently released book. Miss Cornelia and Rev. Meredith discussed Church business- Rev. Meredith had received news from Maywater.

"They say that Rev. Anderson will be called to Montreal by next summer. Maywater will miss him- he was a good man and a fine preacher," he said.

Jerry and Nan exchanged glances. To return to Maywater had been a dream of Jerry's since childhood.

At the next table, Mary Douglas, married for two weeks, chattered so ceaselessly about Boston and married life that others could barely get a word in edgewise. While she talked about walking the Freedom Trail, Miss Oliver, who had been Mrs. Grant since September, sparkled with some special news of her own, which she whispered to Rilla.

"Oh you know I don't like babies in the abstract but for you dear, I'll make an exception," Rilla exclaimed rapturously, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

When dessert was served, weddings became the topic of conversation at the dining room. Jem and Faith, having spent most of the Christmas holiday together, had talked quite seriously about their plans for the future and were quite ready to share it with their loved ones.

"I've an announcement to make," Jem said with a broad smile and an affectionate look at Faith, who sat beside him. "We've decided on our wedding date. If it's all right with everyone, we would like to be married in June, as soon as I graduate."

"Oho, so you're getting married ahead of Rilla?" exclaimed Jerry.

Beside him, Nan murmured mischievously. "And she was so proud of being first too."

"Now stop it you two and let's hear them out," admonished Gilbert with a smile. "Why so soon, Jem?"

Well, I've already received an offer for a position at this new hospital at Ashdale," answered Jem. "It's a charming place- I've been in to see it a few weeks ago- but I'm not going there if I'm not with Faith. We've been apart so long already and it just doesn't feel _right_ for me to start on such an important journey in my life if Faith isn't with me."

"I know it sounds terribly selfish, when we've so many expenses to worry about," said Faith. "But I don't need a fancy wedding. And Jem working at the Ashdale hospital is just right for me; they've a training school there for nurses. After working as a VAD and assisting Father Gilbert, I've realized that I want to spend my life helping people. I've saved most of my salary from teaching and it will be enough to carry me through the first two years."

"And at the end of two years, I would have saved enough to put her through the rest of the course," ended Jem.

Miss Cornelia listened to this plan dubiously, but seeing the approval in the face of Dr. and Mrs. Blythe, she held her tongue. _Faith always was one for wild plans_, she thought.

Anne was looking at her first-born son with pride, though there was a little bit of heartbreak in that too. Never before had her Jem seemed so resolute and mature. _Oh, Jem, you are my little boy no longer_. Looking at the two of them, there was no doubt that they belonged together.

Norman Douglas was the first to speak. "The boy's got a good head on his shoulders, Parson. No use molly cuddling him- he's ready to be sent on his way. And with Red Rose in tow," this with a wink towards Faith "there isn't a crisis in and out of the hospital that they can't overcome."

"It seems that both of you have given this a lot of thought," said Gilbert.

"Yes, I think they are ready," the pastor agreed.

"We wish you two all the joy in the world," said Rosemary, giving Faith's hand a squeeze.

"And I guess now we have two weddings to plan for instead of one," commented Gilbert with a laugh.

"Looks like this place will be in a regular whirlwind of matrimony come next year, Doctor," boomed Norman Douglas. "And now let's drink – years of health and happiness to our happy couple!"

At the parlour, Mary had finally tired of talking, helped along by the rich food she had consumed. Rilla had taken over the conversation, regaling them with tales about her trip to Toronto.

There was something subtly different about Rilla, thought Di. She was as pretty as ever, with her ruddy brown hair and dreamy hazel eyes but she seemed to have grown taller somehow. Di realized then that her baby sister, still with the milky-white skin and dented lip of yore… was, well no longer a baby.

Especially now that she was talking about buying a house.

"I know that it's a little too early to be thinking about it… we were going to wait for the summer to pick it out. But when I saw it, I simply couldn't resist," said Rilla, passing a few photos around the table.

"She took one look at it and fell in love," continued Ken. "Mum and dad have allowed us to make a bid for it. They're selling our old place at Toronto since they're thinking of settling permanently at the House of Dreams. Mum wants to stay closer to Mother Anne."

"Pretty. And almost as big as mine," commented Mary judiciously as she studied the photos. She passed the snaps to Di. It was a pretty house – a cream and gold Italianate, with a low pitched roof, tall, narrow, double-paned windows with hood moldings at the front and bay windows at the side. There was even a romantic arcade porch topped with a balustraded balcony and two shyly peeping towers.

"Seems hard to believe that by this time next year, Rilla will be married," Carl remarked after dinner. He and Persis were talking at the front porch under the cold light of the stars. The two had become great chums in the past few months they spent in Kingsport. "I remember when the two of us would romp all over Rainbow Valley on nights like this, when we were children. 'Moon-sprees' we used to call them."

"I remember when Kenneth used to tease her by taking her stuffed elephant and running all around the house with it," said Persis, chuckling with amusement. " And now, they're engaged. Life is strange."

"Jem and Faith will be moving to Ashdale next summer, and I suppose Ken and Rilla will be settling in Toronto in the fall. And I know Jerry's hankering to move back to Maywater," recited Carl thoughtfully. "It won't be long before the old gang is scattered to the four winds in connubial bliss. What about you, Persis? Any idea of settling down?"

Persis shook her head vehemently. She looked up at the blanket of darkness that was a winter night. "No wedding bells for me just yet. I'd like to try my hand at a career in writing, like my father. I'd roam the world, like Magellan and his crew, searching the Seven Seas for inspiration. What about you, Carl? You're not hiding any Mrs. Carl Meredith somewhere, are you?" she asked teasingly.

"You and I are birds of a feather," answered Carl with a smile. "Faith and Nan are on a constant look out for my bride to be but that's not where my head is at right now. I want to get my biology degree first and then study abroad – get my doctorate in entomology. And then afterwards, do some fieldwork – in the rainforest, perhaps. Not a lot of women would be pleased to honeymoon in the middle of the jungle, I imagine."

"You'd have a lot of unusual guests" was Persis' laughing rejoinder.

"Exactly. Any future wife of mine will have to put up with the company I keep," he said, referring to the assortment of beetles, mice and garden snakes that he kept as pets while he was young and even now filled the learned tomes he spent long nights poring over.

Just then, Carl's pocket wriggled and the head of a tiny, white mouse popped out.

"This is Bob Cratchit- I found him out in the snow, half-frozen," Carl said apologetically, cupping the mouse between both hands.

"He's a cute little fella," remarked Persis – to Carl's surprise, she didn't seem a bit afraid.

"He's probably just hungry. I couldn't slip him any dinner – Nan and Di would be horrified if they found out I had a mouse in my pocket."

"How's about we sneak into the kitchen now while everyone's opening their presents and give him a piece of the Christmas cheeses?" suggested Persis. "If anyone asks, we'd just say one of Santa's elves paid an early visit."

The two of them laughed companionably as they slipped back into Ingleside.

The night passed in a general flurry of merrymaking. After exchanging of gifts and then Ken, Mr. and Mrs. Ford left for the House of Dreams, the Merediths for the manse and the Grants retreated up to the Ingleside spare room.

Di lay on her bed, listening to Nan's even breathing and the steady ticking of the clock. It had been a very full day- she should be asleep by now.

At a quarter to twelve, she sat up cautiously and turned on their bedside lamp. She slid the drawer of her night table open and took out a brightly wrapped package. She tiptoed out the door, crept downstairs and slid into the parlour.

How lovely the parlour looked tonight, with its walls adorned with holly and green garlands and the lush Christmas tree festooned with silver bells and glass balls. The embers of the fire left a lingering warmth in the room. Di snuggled down comfortably on a wing chair, watching the snowfall outside, turning the lawn into a landscape of moonlight and glittering silver.

The clock on the mantelpiece struck midnight and Di carefully unwrapped Daniel's gift. It was a little glass box, filled with a panoply of things. There was a strip of silvery sand, with spiky cream-colored shells, and bits of green grass. There was what appeared to be a root of some sort, a faded Magnolia blossom, a sprig of mistletoe and the largest item of all, a roll of paper tied with a bit of gold ribbon.

Di looked a bit mystified at this present, before she spotted the note attached to the box and read it.

_To my lovely Di,_

_First of all, I want to wish you a Merry, Merry Christmas and hope that everyone in Ingleside is well and happy. Secondly, I hope you like my gift, though it may take a bit of explaining for you to understand what it means._

_When I was a child, my friends and I used to make memory boxes, little keepsakes filled with bits and pieces of things that hold some happy thought or recollection. A bit of melted candle from my birthday cake, wrapping paper from a gift, that sort of thing. Some of my most precious memories are captured in those little cartons, and I've never gotten out of the habit of making one whenever anyone or anything new comes into my life. _

_So I thought it only fitting to make one for you Di, as a memento of what we've shared together- and what we will share still, I hope. __There's a bit of white sand from the Blue Pearl shore and grass from Olympus- I thought it brought a bit of the flavour of my home. Maybe one day, you'll come to visit me, dear. And then there's a magnolia for all the fun we've had at the Ashtons, a piece of ginger root for when you had that headache at the Struther' party- did you really have a headache? I thought it was actually a bit of predestination. And here's a sprig of mistletoe- I certainly don't have to explain that one, do I? Because by this time, I should have said what I've been wanting to say and done what I've been wanting to do since I met you. You have the most kissable lips, Di. _

As for that little roll of music – for a memory box with me couldn't be without a bit of music, could it? – that's the song I hear in my heart when you're near me. I hope one day you'll hear me play it for you, when we're together again. Once again, I wish you the Merriest of Christmases, dearest of Dianas!

_With much love,_

_Daniel_


	12. A Stranger Among Them

A/N: Thanks for everyone who reviewed! Hope you like this chapter… pls. review! Would love to hear some comments about Jasmine and Sylvester. 

Leiko and Mammu: I'm actually going to write a Persis fanfic, with a lot about Ken and Rilla too, as a sequel to At Wild Magnolias. I'm doing a few drafts right now and I'll start working on the chapters soon. . 

Just me: I'm going to be posting another fanfic in a few days – this time about Faith and Jem, a prequel and companion to Rilla of Ingleside. Some of the characters there will be making guest appearances here too. Hope you'll read and review! 

Terreis: Thanks! I like Daniel as well – in fact I've even got stories and stuff about his whole family. We'll learn more about him in later chapters. This chapter actually has more details about the Shirley/Jasmine relationship (and the Faye/Syl one)… ah the path of true love never did run smooth…

Lika2: I've always felt a little sorry for Di and Shirley (and to a lesser extent Nan) for being a little neglected, so I wanted to write about them for my first fanfic. Glad you like the story and the original characters as well. 

Gufa, Starrika, Nie Starwhistler anonymous 327, meredithblithe, toto: hope you enjoy this next chapter! Chapter 12: A Stranger Among Them 

**1**

After Christmas, Ingleside enjoyed a few languid days before it began to buzz with activity once more as everyone prepared for the arrival of Jasmine Tate. She was to stay at Ingleside for three days before returning to New Brunswick for the remainder of her vacation. 

Shirley spent quite a lot of time planning for her visit, methodically filling out a list of things to do. He asked Susan to cook Jasmine's favorite meals, prepared for a picnic at the Four Winds Lighthouse, and to cap it off, made plans to attend the New Year's dance and watch the fireworks display.  

"I want her days crammed full of fun," declared Shirley, as he borrowed a pretty silken shawl from Nan for the intended picnic at the Lighthouse. He wanted them to climb to the very top – what a spectacular view there was to be had of the sea and harbour. And Jasmine might like to walk along the shore and collect some lovely seashells as a souvenir. They were having a pretty mild winter but it was best to be prepared for those chilly sea breezes. 

Somehow, Shirley was looking forward to this visit with as apprehension as anticipation. He worried about Jasmine not having fun, about his family not liking her, or her not liking them. December twenty-ninth found Shirley a bundle of nerves, though outwardly he was all jolly and excited, as he fetched Jasmine from the train station.

The Ingleside folks received Jasmine with mixed reactions, Susan being the most critical and relentless observer. Jasmine was quiet and ladylike, points in her favor. She had exquisite manners – "There's good breeding behind her," commented Susan. "Do you think it has anything to do with her royal connections, Mrs. Doctor Dear?" – and she praised Susan's cooking to the high heavens. On the drive over, she described the Glen as "idyllic and charming" and on her tour around the house, she declared Ingleside "perfectly lovely". Outwardly, one might believe that her first day was a success and that she would she enjoy her stay very much. 

But Shirley who knew Jasmine well, sensed that she wasn't entirely at her ease. She was, when you came down to it, a city girl, and a very rich one at that! Jasmine was much more used to concrete streets than dirt paths through the grass and she'd never been near an oven or washed a dish in her entire life. Having half a dozen maids at her service in New Brunswick, she spent more of her time entertaining or being entertained. And though not overly garrulous, Jasmine was opinionated. Shirley sensed that she found the Ingleside folks old-fashioned, though she had naught but praise about them when questioned directly. When one was a guest, one simply did not criticize one's host- _that_ would have been impolite. She simply tried to drop subtle hints about how things 'ran' in the city, secretly hoping that they would recognize the wisdom in her suggestions.

"Shirley told me that you're a Redmond B.A., Mrs. Blythe, and that you used to write for some journals. Whatever made you decide to settle here in Glen St. Mary?" she asked very casually on her first night. The two were at the parlour, enjoying tea and the warmth of the fire on a chilly winter evening. "There are so many more literary opportunities outside of the Island. I came across that pretty fairy sketch you had published once and I know of a few editors who might be interested in your brand of writing- _if_ you haven't completely abandoned it." 

She said that last line rather significantly, gazing around the four walls of Ingleside with inward disapproval. Country life must be _so_ confining for a woman with ambition and talent, as Mrs. Blythe must have had. Anne was discerning enough to detect the faint air of condescension from Jasmine- condescension and _pity_! A perplexing combination, until she remembered an earlier comment from Shirley about Jasmine's thoughts on the role of women. The girl was actually trying to be _helpful_, perhaps trying to rescue her from something that, to Jasmine's point of view, was an utterly untenable position. 

Anne felt that she must disabuse her of that notion. "No, I haven't completely abandoned my writing, dear," Anne said, thinking of the growing sheaf of poetry hidden in her drawer. Since Walter's death, she had found herself writing more often; perhaps she would read it to her children some night. "But my ambition was never to become a literary giant. I've wanted to experience life's beauty, _taste_ it, and add to it if I could. My writing was one way of realizing that dream. I write as a way of bringing forth rainbows of imagination, multiplying beauty by giving form to lovely unshared thought. Just setting down words on paper is the fulfillment of a dream and has brought me many a real joy." 

Jasmine did not look as if she understood and Anne felt that she couldn't quite explain it to her. Jasmine was so clearly not of the race that knew Joseph. 

So she simply added, "Just remember in the years to come, Jasmine, that one can never equate success and real satisfaction simply with its outward expression in worldly fame, or receiving accolades from others. The true measure of fulfillment comes from within. So don't pity me overly much, dear. I've drunk my mead of happiness- and here I dwell amongst my own," she said the last almost to herself as she gazed at the leafless poplar and the bare lawn that would soon be green again in the coming spring. She had learned the secret of loving and being loved here- and there really was nothing more beautiful than that.

Jasmine shrugged, giving Mrs. Blythe a polite smile. What a shame that the Blythes couldn't be convinced to move to the city! It would have done wonders for Mrs. Blythe's career. Her writing wasn't Jasmine's style- too fanciful by far- but given more exposure and more encouragement, she might have made something more of herself. Really, it was too bad. But Jasmine supposed that Mrs. Blythe shared the view of most country folks that raising a family was a woman's only duty! 

_The relics of a bygone age,_ she thought to herself as she headed off to the spare room for bed. At ten o'clock, no less! There was simply nothing else to do here.

Shirley found out, to his dismay, that Jasmine simply did not know how to make fun for herself. Left alone, she wandered around the house like a discontented spirit and it disturbed the peace of the house in a subtle way as if there was a shadow, a stranger among them that disrupted the quiet fellowship of the family circle. Shirley borrowed the car, acceding to her frequent requests for a drive around town. But Shirley was right in thinking that the quiet environs of Four Winds and the Glens would be deadly dull for her, who was used to theatres and restaurants and late night parties. She peppered her conversations with "Back home, we always did so-and-so…" or "In the city, we've got this-and-that…"

The picnic at the Lighthouse was rather a failure; the climb up the Lighthouse had tired her and she had only a passing interest in the wonderful view.   

"The scenery's exquisite but one can't spend an entire afternoon looking at it. And I really can't take a walk along the sand in these heels after climbing up all those stairs," she remarked on their drive home. She had much the same reaction to snow shoeing around Rainbow Valley- she said that she was afraid to catch a cold tramping about in the snow outside. 

That night, Shirley struck off the remaining outdoor activities on his list. Clearly, Jasmine did not get along with Mother Nature. He was rather glad that tomorrow night was the dance at the Lighthouse- surely, she would enjoy that.

Once again, Shirley was right. Jasmine's brown eyes twinkled at the mention of a party. Even better, she had agreed to spend the day shopping in town for her _ensemble_ with the Blythe twins and Faith. He had wanted her to get to know his family, not spend all her entire time in the Glen with him. He drove them to town, glad to see Jasmine chattering freely with Nan. The two of them got on surprisingly well – Shirley supposed that it was their mutual love for gay society that did the trick. And for all her love of nature, Nan had always had a hankering to live in the city for a little while. 

That night, Ingleside was abuzz with all the girls preparing for the dance. Jasmine, assisted by Nan, took special pains with her outfit. She had an inkling that the Ingleside folks were not as impressed with her as folks back in New Brunswick were, and she was determined that tonight, she would not be eclipsed by any Glen girl. 

Jasmine made the most of her dusky looks in a black and gold taffeta dress, with sleeves of fine black netting. Nan had made much off it when the two of them were dressing up in her room- it was such a fine dress, with the air of an artiste about it. The straps of the dress were made of black jet beads and there were long dangling chains of black jet as decorative trim. Completing the look were the dangling topaz earrings her father had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Shirley thought that she looked like a smoky black-and-gold butterfly as she floated down the stairs and into his arms. 

"Do you like my dress?" she murmured as he led her to the car. They were riding along the Blythe's car to the lighthouse, while the twins were going with the Meredith's and Rilla with the Fords.

"It's beautiful. You're beautiful," answered Shirley reassuringly, though inwardly it was a little too sumptuous for the Glen. Jasmine responded by smiling and laying a head on his shoulder as they drove off. "I hope the others think so too," she whispered. 

Shirley patted her hand. He wanted to tell that she didn't have to try so hard to impress everyone but now was not the time.

But Jasmine needn't have worried about her reception at the dance that night. She seemed to bloom as she skipped up the rock steps and entered the lantern-lit pavilion, with bewitching music playing from the victrola. She made quite a sensation that night among the girls, who exclaimed over her dress and admired her city sophistication. She was a splendid dancer and had more partners than she knew what to do with, though she made sure to never to dance with any boy more times than she did with Shirley. 

"You got quite a girl there, Shirley!" commented Harvey Crawford coming up to him at the refreshment table, where he had taken a breather. Jasmine was still at the dance floor, laughingly teaching the Shimmy to shy Laurie MacAllister and an admiring audience.

"What a prize!" added Charley Booth. "Mary Douglas mentioned that she's smart as a whip and the bank president's daughter to boot. Shirley, you are a lucky man." 

Shirley smiled his smile of quiet pride, the tensions of Jasmine's visit seeming to melt away. Jasmine _was_ a great girl and he _was_ lucky to have her. 

When the fast-paced music ended, Jasmine left the dance floor to talk to Adam Crawford. She had brought a few of her records, made up of the very latest hits from the States. Suddenly a very familiar tune floated in the air.  

"I asked Adam Crawford to play this for us," she said, sidling up next to him with glowing brown eyes. "Come on- this song is reserved for you and no one else."

She led him into the center of the dance floor with all eyes following them; Shirley put his arms around her as they swayed to the slow strains of the song "Dardanella".

"Do you remember this song, Shirley?" asked Jasmine

"Of course," Shirley murmured. They had ended their very first date – at a party in New Brunswick – with this very song. Jasmine put her head on his shoulders as other couples joined them.

_Down beside the Dardanella Bay, _

_where Oriental breezes play, _

_there lives a lonesome maid, Armenian. _

_By the Dardanelles with glowing eyes _

_she looks across the sea and sighs _

_and weaves her love spell so Sirenian. _

This song always reminded him of Jasmine. Something in her cool brown eyes reminded him of the faint, mysterious airs of the East.

_Soon I shall return to Turkestan, _

_I will ask for her heart and her hand: _

_Oh sweet Dardanella, _

_I love your harem eyes, _

_I'm a lucky fellow to capture such a prize._

_And I am, I really am._ Shirley thought to himself. No one would have expected him- plain, ordinary Shirley Blythe- to capture someone as pretty as Jasmine Tate. Jasmine, whom New Brunswick society called the 'Princess Tate', heiress to the Bank of New Brunswick and the Tate fortune. Jasmine, who had half-a-dozen richer, handsomer boys after her in New Brunswick. He didn't know exactly how, but he had won her, to the surprise of nearly everyone in his class. Hadn't he seen it in the faces of nearly everyone in this party? Shy Shirley, always in the background, standing in the shadows of Jem, Ken, even Walter.  

_Well, not any more._  

"Shirley?" whispered Jasmine, a faint frown on her face. "Is something bothering you?"

Shirley shook his head, tightening his hold on her reassuringly. What was he thinking? He should be enjoying this moment more. Jasmine was looking up at him expectantly. Shirley supposed that he should kiss her; so he did.

Later on, they stood by the rocky steps, looking seaward as they waited for the fireworks display. 

"Enjoying yourself?" Shirley asked, as they watched the moonlight glittering off the sands and listening to the soft crooning of the sea.

"I had the best time," Jasmine responded, with the first genuinely happy smile he had seen on her face since she had arrived in the Glen.

"I'm glad. I was afraid you weren't enjoying yourself very much."

"Oh no, everyone has been wonderful to me," she reassured him. "It's just that I got so nervous! I want everyone to like me so much."

Their conversation was interrupted by loud chanting from the crowd as everyone began to count down the seconds to the New Year. 

"10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!"

Shirley leaned in to give Jasmine a kiss on the cheek as golden flames suddenly shot up, lighting up the dark sky with showers of red, blue and green sparks. Fountains of butterflies fluttered with a hiss, and flowers bloomed before their eyes. 

"It's 1920! Oh, I wonder what the New Year will bring?" murmured Jasmine with an eloquent sidelong glance at him. For her, the New Year was filled with unspoken promise.

Shirley smiled and said nothing as he led her down the steps. He didn't know why but he was suddenly gripped by an unexplained rush of trepidation. He shrugged it off. Jem and Faith were waiting by the car; it was time to be home. 

Jasmine left the next day, heaping thanks to Dr. and Mrs. Blythe and Susan. 

"I wish you'd come and visit me in New Brunswick, dear," she said to Nan. "I'd show you a fabulous time." 

Shirley drove Jasmine to the station and they parted with promises to meet up when school opened in a few days. 

"The Glen's nice for a change of pace," Jasmine had said diplomatically, as he kissed her goodbye. But they both heaved a sigh of relief when she boarded the train. 

Shirley returned to Ingleside with a strange feeling of regained freedom. Home hadn't seemed much like home with Jasmine about in the past few days. He stopped by the kitchen to give Mother a kiss, teased Susan for some of her cookies and then climbed up to his room, unconscious of his glad step, for a few moments of much needed solitude.

Downstairs, Susan watched him go, and said to Mrs. Blythe, "Now I am not one to back-bite, Mrs. Doctor Dear, but between you and me and the kitchen walls, she's not what I imagined he would like at all." 

****

**2**

But Shirley was not the only one who found his vacation less than ideal. Faye found herself in very similar straits, according to the letters she sent to Una and Di, during her own stay at the Symingtons.

Excerpts from Faye's letters…

I must tell you all about my week at the Symingtons. It didn't work out quite like how I imagined it. I am no hand at writing letters and will explain better when we see each other at Kingsport, but I felt that I _had_ to tell somebody. I've no one to confide in this whole week. The experience was a bit like drinking coffee (and you know how I hate the stuff!) – biting, stimulating but with an undercurrent of bitterness somehow.

First, a little description of the Symington mansion. I sent a sketch over so you could envision it better, since I am not so good with words. I still cannot decide whether I like it or not. On one hand, it is very elegant. It had a very Grecian air, with a pedimented gable and white pillars stringed with lights and poinsettias. It overlooked a very expansive lawn, with grass only long enough to tickle one's toes and an orderly row of spruces that bordered the long driveway. Right now it is a long empty drift of white and looks very ghostly in the moonlight. Something about its emptiness is frightening to me. 

But Mrs. Symington is very proud of the lawn- they have two gardeners to maintain the grounds. I realize that I do not like the word maintain – it smacks of gears and wheels and machines. I like to leave growing things on their own- they have so much more colour then and there's always some delightful surprise waiting to be discovered. Like the little hills of clover and violets and dandelions at my own Opal Crest and the little clearing at Wild Magnolias with its ring of birches and the lotus pond. Even our very own rose garden at the Bower just seems friendlier to me. 

And as for my impression of the Symingtons- first the good. I like Sylvester's father very much. He's handsome though he doesn't look a bit like Syl, with his brown hair and black eyes. I like him because he's jolly- even when he isn't laughing his mouth seems full of smiles. I called him Uncle right away and he calls me Fawn because I'm so timid. He teases me over the dinner table as well– but I like it. In fact, I don't think I could have gone through this visit without him.   

The other thing I liked best during my visit is the library at Sylvester's house. This is Uncle George's special refuge and has become mine as well in the week I spent with the Symingtons. It's real cozy, paneled in dark wood, with a marble fireplace and soft armchairs that one can just sink into – there's one that just suits all my kinks and corners and I curl up there like a contented cat all afternoon, while Sylvester is out with his friends in town. Even though Uncle George likes his solitude, he doesn't mind me staying with him while he reads his letters and answers memos from his business. I'm so glad that he's taken a liking to me. I play chess with him in the evenings after supper too and with Syl's help, I manage to win half of our games. He's a good sport and doesn't mind if it's two against one. 

Sylvester's mother is the very opposite of Uncle George- like a plate of rich caviar, she's an acquired taste. She's an elegant woman, with steely silvery-blue eyes and she's always dressed in silk, with amethysts in her dark hair and a diamond set for company. She's very stern and reminds me of my grandmother. One just can't help but be very good and proper in her presence though all the while one is seething inside to do something devilish. 

Mrs. Symington asked me all sorts of questions about my family and life in England, which made me very uncomfortable. She was very pleased to learn that Father and Grandfather had a seat at the House of Lords in Parliament. I'm very interested in the English peerage myself; the idea of lords and ladies just seem so romantic, like a scene stolen from a storybook. But it is politics and the social scene that interested Mrs. Symington; she wanted to know all about the different Lords and their wives and their family history. I'm afraid I knew too little about them to suit her – my family was not often in London, and whenever Grandfather would leave to attend to business, he would leave me and Mother behind. I didn't mind; I would rather play in the Cotswolds than stay in the city.  

Sylvester's older sister Marilyn takes after her. She has silver-blue eyes too but with a long nose that always seems to be sniffing about for faults. She's just recently married to a Mr. Harvey Cabot, who is a partner in a prominent law firm where Sylvester wants to work, and is just as rich as the Symingtons. Marilyn is always talking about wintering in the Alps and summers at the beaches in France. I have spent time in both but I do not like to talk that way about it- she talks so familiarly about such places but I do not think she knows very much about them at all.  I wish I could like Marilyn better but we don't seem to see eye-to-eye on anything – except Sylvester perhaps. She adores Sylvester but doesn't think anyone good enough for him- oh, woe is me!

I wanted to make a good impression on them all but I never seem to get on. I spilled wine on my dress the first night and got a stain on their Persian rug. Then I bought some lovely goldenrod from the florist in town to make up for it and left it in the sitting room. Sylvester thought it a lovely gesture- how was I to know that Marilyn was allergic to goldenrod and would break out in rashes? She would not sit at the supper table that night and she gave me such slams about it the next morning. 

"Glo would never have bought _goldenrod_," she said, sniffling while she buttered her toast. "She sent us such a sophisticated orchid arrangement last Christmas. Glo had _such_ good taste, hadn't she Syl?"

Gloria Whalen is an old family friend of the Symingtons and evidently, Marilyn has been trying to match a match of them for years.

And Sylvester just nodded. Nodded! In agreement! I know he does not like to contradict his family before company but still… 

And every time I would meet one of their relations, they would say, "You're not at all like we expected." And I could never think of anything to say to _that_. 

I wish I could talk about this to Syl but in his own way, he's very clannish. He's proud of his traditions and his pedigree. In the words of Marilyn Symington, "You're a Somebody if you're a Symington." 

I suppose if I were to sum up my impressions of the Syl's family I would say that they are a very splendid people – and standoffish. I'm almost…_almost_…sorry that I had cut my vacation in England short just to meet the Symingtons' – even Sylvester didn't seem much like himself around his family. I suppose he was nervous and wanted them to approve of me, but I'm afraid that they don't thought it wasn't for lack of trying. I wish more of them could be like Uncle George; then everything would be just natural and comfortable. But as it is, I don't feel myself a part of his family- I felt like a shadow, a stranger among them struggling to gain entry into their exclusive circle.  

And the Symingtons, for the most part, seem to like it that way.


	13. What the New Year Brings

Hey everyone, thank you so much for all the positive reviews! I'm sorry that it took me so long to update… been so busy with work and stuff. But I am definitely not abandoning this fic or Faith's Journey, which I will be updating soon. Hope you guys like this next chapter… please give me some comments on Persis and the other characters. Once again, thank you so much for all the reviews… they've definitely given me the motivation to continue =)

ruby gillis, on-fire-for-Christ Terreis, kellybell, x), Steph Silverstar, Gufa, dramaqueen45, bumblebei, laura, Morgan, diane, Berit, passingby, crescent moon, mary, juliet's rose, Emmy Award, AmandaPanda, PhiloNysh, stella maynard: thanks for the encouragement, hope you keep on reading and reviewing =)

Just I: Thanks for the compliment. I try really hard to make m writing as LMM-esque as possible.

Starrika: there will definitely be more focus on the Shirley/Faye pairing later in the story… I guess I'm saving the best for last!

Lika2: I actually don't dislike Jasmine myself… to me, she's just someone who has different opinions and who's lifestyle is very different from the Blythes.

Evenstar: Glad you like Faye/Daniel =) You'll be getting to know them more in the course of the story.

Laurie1: Glad you like the fic… I guess being a stickler for detail and accuracy help me to approximate LMM's style more. About the original characters, there'll be more details about them later that'll round out their characters and give them a little more personality.

bosworth, jess: I'm actually planning on writing a Nan/Jerry fic too, as soon as I finish this and Faith's Journey. In fact, there are so many characters I want to write about that it's hard for me not to start writing them all at the same time!

dahae, Berit : Thanks for the corrections =) Sometimes it's a little hard for me to do research on the time period, since we don't get a lot of history books here in the Philippines. I'll try to fix them when I go through the second draft of the story =)

love books: Glad that you like Daniel! I'm always a little worried that original characters won't fit in with LMM's characters so its great to hear feedback on them.

ipegasus: Thanks for the insightful comments… maybe I will try to work in a little of what you said when I do my rewrites. Also like what you said about the Di/Daniel pairing, it's actually very accurate =) The way the relationship is going, Di gives Daniel stability, while Daniel makes Di laugh. But some of the dynamics may change a little over the course of the story ;)

Bubbles: Nope, I have definitely not abandoned this fic =) Sorry it took so long to update... I've actually been having a little trouble deciding on the direction of the story, plus I've been working on some other stuff too (including Faith's Journey). I know you're eager for this story to be finished and so am I- there are times when I wish that all the stuff in my head would just transfer itself on paper. Believe me, I have no intention of posting anything without FINISHING it, that I can promise you, though I can't promise that I can write as fast as you want me to (I'm a notoriously slow writer) =)

**Chapter 13: What the New Year Brings**

**1**

_I should be glad of loneliness   
And hours that go on broken wings,   
A thirsty body, a tired heart   
And the unchanging ache of things,   
  
If I could make a single song   
As lovely and as full of light,   
As hushed and brief as a falling star   
On a winter night._

Persis recalled the words of Sarah Teasdale with a certain amount of satisfaction. For the past half hour she had sat at her desk trying to write her article for the Kingsport Weekly Review, yet she had come up with nothing but crumpled paper and a rare blue mood. When words usually poured out of your pen as easily as they fell from your tongue, it was frustrating to scribble and cross out line after line twenty times in succession. The little hillocks of balled-up paper annoyed her, as did the blank page that lay before her.

Still, there _was _consolation in the thought that even great poets struggled sometimes with their artistry.

Persis stared outside her window, hoping for some gleam of inspiration. The sun was shining and the sky was a bright blue bereft of portentous storm clouds. The garden was buried in a drift of snow, not deep but as smooth as a silken carpet.

Nan would have proclaimed it a fine day; she would have suggested a snowshoe tramp on that little patch of woods at the back of the Bower.

But in all honesty, Persis found all this perfect weather dull and she was not over fond of staring at scenery. Nan, Faye and even Di were all crazy about the outdoors; and though Persis appreciated a fine sunset as well as anybody, she just could not fly into a rapture over a patch of grass. Not when there was a fine city like Kingsport, with its rich history and fascinating patchwork of people, at her doorstep.

"It's just too quiet in here," Persis declared to no one in particular, thinking that she had hit on the cause of her malaise.

If only there was someone else in the house with her right now. It was an unusual occurrence for her to be absolutely alone at the Bower but ever since they had returned from the Christmas break, everyone seemed to be busier. Nan had just been named moderator of the Literature Society at Edgewood and would be spending frequent afternoons heading book readings and discussions. Una had classes until the evening. Faye was usually off in the afternoons on a Monday but lately she had been spending more and more time with Sylvester and couldn't really be counted on for company.

Persis didn't like it; she couldn't understand what Faye saw in the man. Sure, he was rich and handsome, yet there was something off-putting about Sylvester, a certain cold arrogance that Persis could not stomach. It was a wonder Faye could put up with it. Persis wouldn't say anything to Faye though; the girl was very sensitive and rather defensive with her first beau.

And the fifth member of the Bower quintet, Di, was still at the Ashtons' and wouldn't be back until dinnertime. Though even Di had been acting different lately. She went about with a strange exultant look in her eyes and spent evenings writing long letters that Persis was sure were not addressed to Ingleside. She would have to talk to Nan about it soon.

But that mystery would have to be solved later. Persis went back to her writing, determined but with no better success than before.

Finally, she sighed as she put away her notepad. As much as she hated to admit it, she had no idea what to write about this week.

_Well, I'll just have to keep on thinking,_ she thought, though there was a worm of worry at the pit of her stomach. Her deadline was coming up and by now, she usually had some topic or angle picked out already.

Trying to dismiss her anxieties, Persis flipped through last week's Review. She had written about the New Year's Ball at the Diamond Hotel. It was a nice article but not one of her best she had to admit. She had actually written one that she thought much more interesting; a review of Virginia Woolf's "Night and Day" and its commentary on the role of women in society. Persis was very interested in the budding women's movement but the Review had rejected the article for being too 'heavy'.

She tossed the magazine aside, at a loss for something to do. So it was no wonder that when the hallway phone rang, Persis rushed to it as if it were a lifeline.

"Hello?"

"Hey there," Persis recognized Carl's cheerful voice instantly. "Just finished the laboratory tests for my biology class and I've got the rest of the afternoon off. Would any of you girls want to catch a movie in town?"

"Nobody's here but me but I'll take you up on your offer," answered Persis quickly, quite glad for the diversion.

"Great! I'll be there in a few minutes then."

****

**2**

"Now that's an ending to keep you awake at night," Carl remarked as he and Persis walked out of the cinema after watching the European mystery thriller 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.' "Makes you think twice about going to those traveling fairs, doesn't it?"

"I have always found something vaguely sinister about carnivals," Persis said, remembering the strange surrealistic atmosphere of Caligari's sideshow, all odd angles and painted shadows. The landscape of the movie had been filled with twisted streets, crazily squeezed rooms and contorted scenery. And that ghostlike Cesare lying in his coffin… she shivered from the delicious horror of it. "I think what made the film so eerie was the set design. It was like taking a peek into the unsettled mind of a madman."

"Ah now, but who was the true madman?" mused Carl. "I don't trust that Dr. Caligari at all… that smile of his in the last frame…"

They started speculating on the identity of the real murderer as they walked down the street. To Persis, unanswered mysteries were always more fascinating than resolved ones.

"Perhaps I can write a review of the film for my next article," Persis said with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm as they strolled into an ice cream parlour for a late afternoon snack.

"I guess you couldn't keep your mind off it. Still don't feel like writing?" asked Carl sympathetically as they sat down. He flagged down a waitress, who brought them their menus.

"I don't know what's going on, Carl," she exclaimed, scowling glumly as she stared out at the busy street. Then she lowered her voice confidentially and said, "Its not just the writing – it's my life in general. It's so… dull. Meeting with my editor, who never takes any of my suggestions for what I want to write. Then an interview with some snooty socialite for the latest fashions from _Paris_ or gossip about their latest benefit, which just bores me to tears. And then in the evenings, maybe a little lark with the girls- _if_ they have time. If not, I'm back to just answering mail. It's the same thing, week after week."

"But when we first started out here, you raved about what a perfect job this was," Carl pointed out teasingly. "You said you liked to write and that the pay was good, and best of all, you only had to do few hours writing and then you're as free as a bird. Seems to me that you got what you wished for and realized it wasn't all that it was cracked up to be."

Persis grinned ruefully. She liked talking to Carl because he was so refreshingly honest and straightforward. Unlike most women, who seemed trained to be quiet and diffident and ladylike, he was never afraid to voice out his opinion, popular or not. Nan called him tactless but Persis liked his forthrightness. Carl wasn't afraid of anyone – even being called Cyclops Meredith by his enemies didn't daunt him. Like water sliding off a duck's back, he was as merry and fun-loving as ever.

"That's true- I guess I got carried away because this was my first real job," Persis admitted. Her blue eyes began to snap as she continued, "But there's just not as much space to work with as I thought there would be. Mr. Eldridge, my editor, is always contradicting me. He seems to think that just because I'm a woman I can't write anything but society news." She paused in her tirade to order a cup of pistachio ice cream while Carl asked for a banana-split.

"It's like Henry Lawson wrote,

_So you're writing for a paper? Well, it's nothing very new   
To be writing yards of drivel for a tidy little screw_

she quoted sarcastically. "That just about sums up how I'm feeling."

"Seems to me that it's not the writing that's the problem, it's the yards of drivel," commented Carl thoughtfully. "You don't like having someone dictate to you what to write. You want your own ideas."

"E-zackly!" agreed Persis emphatically.

"Why not try working freelance? Better yet, write a book." He mentioned this as casually as someone might say, "bake a cake" or "knit some socks."

Persis stared at Carl as if he had dropped a thunderbolt in her lap.

"I mean, I'm not much of a reader but Faith loves your father's books," continued Carl, mistaking her silence for a lack of interest. " And I've heard Mrs. Blythe say often enough that you've inherited his talent. She said if you keep on, you'd do as well as Emily Starr Kent."

"Did Mrs. Blythe really say that?" asked Persis, surprised and gratified. It was the dear wish of her heart that she would someday become a published author like her father but she had kept that dream mostly to herself, thinking that a book was perhaps, beyond her abilities. There were a lot of people in Toronto, old- fashioned aunts and uncles, jealous schoolmates and English professors who had bolstered this opinion. The lively commentary of a society column she knew she could handle, but a book was entirely different.

"You really think I'm good enough to be a published author?" she asked, still dubious.

"Sure, you are!" Carl said enthusiastically, though Persis wasn't sure if the enthusiasm was a display of his conviction or a display of his appreciation for his banana-split, which had just arrived. "You're just not being used right, that's all."

"What do you think I could write about?" mused Persis, slowly warming to the idea.

"Unfortunately, I'm not the most creative man in the world," replied Carl, as he dug into his ice cream. "I'd have to go with that old adage 'Write what you know'."

"But my life is so mundane. I wonder if anyone would like to read about it," murmured Persis, as she swallowed a spoonful of pistachio.

Carl wondered how anything about Persis Ford, with her hair of shining gold and her bright blue eyes, could possibly be mundane. Aloud, he said, "I'm sure you'll come up with something. You always do. I've read every single one of your articles and not once did I think, 'Well, that was mundane'. You just put your mind and yourself into it and it'll be a best-seller."

"Maybe I will give it a try," Persis said, her customary self-possession returning with Carl's assurances. Carl never lied and his sincere belief in her abilities buoyed up her confidence considerably. "I didn't think I could do it, truly…but what Mrs. Blythe said… and… well, you've convinced me. Thank you, Carl," Impulsively she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, I hope that solves your problem," said Carl, glad to see that familiar saucy sparkle in Persis' eyes. "Now let's dig in and enjoy this treat before it melts!"

**3**

Persis returned to the Bower in much better spirits, ready to continue her struggle to get through this week's article. Nan and Una were in the kitchen preparing dinner; already the delicious aroma of roasted beef pervaded the air. Normally, she would be there with them, teasing them for a taste of whatever they were brewing or snitching an inviting treat off the dessert tray before it was cool. But just now she needed the privacy of her room, she wanted to think about Carl's suggestion.

Persis thought back to her childhood days when she would spend hours watching her father write in his study. She was four the first time she had had sneaked into his study. He had sat at his prized cherry-wood desk, his dark-grey eyes intent at something she couldn't quite see. She crept up to him as quietly as she could, staring in fascination as he filled page after page with mysterious words. She knew that daddy "wrote" but she had never seen this fascinating process up close. When he finally noticed her, he set her on his knees, and asked, "What are you doing here, angel?"

"Are you making up a story, daddy?" she had asked, looking curiously at the sheaf of papers on his desk, papers that had demanded such an all-consuming concentration.

"Yes and I'm afraid I'll be busy writing for the next hour or so. So why don't you run along to the kitchen? I think Mommy is baking an apple pie and she might let you lick the spoon."

The kitchen had been Persis' favourite place in the whole house because that was where delicious treats like cookies and doughnuts and pies were made. But the thought of a place where stories came from, like the one about princes and princesses and goblins that Mommy told her about at bedtime, was even more wonderful. And she liked this room, with rows and rows of leather-bound books lining the wall and cushy red chairs and the giant globe that you could spin on its axis, painted all over with drawings of people from all around the world.

She shook her head. "No, I like it here. Can I stay and watch you, daddy? Please?"

Owen said that she might, thinking that she would tire of it before long. Persis was a precocious child, always singing and running about, but to his surprise, she sat on the chair obediently, watching him with her big blue eyes.

From that day on, Persis was the only one allowed into dad's study. Not even mother was given that privilege, though Dad talked all his ideas over with her. Mother could not understand Persis' fascination with the study- she thought that Persis just wanted to spend time with her father.

And that was partly the reason. Persis adored daddy and thought him very interesting. She liked seeing him in all his moods. When he was dreamy and brooding over some new idea, he would stare off into space, doodling aimlessly. When he was quietly frustrated, he would gnaw on his pen and mutter under his breath, frowning. During these times, Persis liked to soothe by ensconcing herself on his lap and singing his favourite songs. But Persis liked it best when things were going well- daddy prosaically called it his good days. When he seemed oblivious to everything around him and his eyes were illumined with the inward glow of some wonderful vision, then the air seemed to be filled with magic, a witchery that intrigued little Persis.

When Persis was six and had just learned to write, she insisted on a table of her own. Owen delightedly obliged with a pretty maple writing desk and a matching chair and father and daughter spent many an afternoon writing together. Persis knew that it worried Mother a little, who thought that she should spend more time out of doors. But Dad disagreed.

"Let Persis have her little desk," Owen said, after displaying a page filled with tipsy, newly learned sentences. "Someday she may churn out more than scribbles." And he brooded over Persis' compositions with warm delight.

At first, Persis thought that she wrote in imitation of her father, whom she admired as the most wonderful person in the world. She loved finishing her short one-page stories and having Father read it out loud. But as she grew older, she found herself writing for the sheer delight of creation. She wrote all about the important happenings in her small world – the lessons learned in school, what she thought of her classmates and teachers, all her plays with her older brother, Kenneth. All of these were immortalized in her chronicles and though they were in no way great literature, Persis gained slowly in her skill of colourful descriptions and amusing narratives.

Many of Persis' friends and family knew that she liked to write, though most dismissed it as a harmless pastime. She was noted more for her great beauty and her general popularity than any great writing talent.

"You face is a better currency than your pen will ever be," her English professor in college had once said. Persis had never really forgiven Mr. Haynes for it. She had no intention of spending her life just waiting for some man to propose to her. She wanted to travel the four corners of the globe and meet all sorts of people – beggars and kings, saints and sinners, artists and philosophers. She wanted to puzzle out the mysteries of the pyramids, gaze at the statues of Easter Island and follow the path of Ulysses. She wanted to experience the very drama of life and capture it with her pen. Yet her ambitions made many of her relatives and even some of her classmates look at her with disapproval. Or worse, amusement, as if she were a foolish child.

So Persis took care to hide her ambitions for a literary career. Very few were privy to this secret- Dad knew of course, and just recently, Carl. For some reason, Persis didn't want to tell any of the girls just yet, though they were her very closest friends.

But the book could wait another day- her article however, could not. Persis felt a prickle of anxiety creep in again as she set the table for dinner. She had only a few days left before the paper went to print.

"Di had called and said she would be late," Nan said, interrupting Persis' thoughts. "We'd better start before the soup gets cold."

"Are you all right, Persis?" asked Una, as she placed the plate of roast beef on the board.

"Sure," Persis fibbed, smiling her best as they all sat down.

Persis took care to be especially gay and merry at the dinner table, regaling Nan and Una with a dramatic retelling of the film she just watched. Persis was sensitive when it came to her writing. She didn't want them to know about her writer's block and Una was very sharp in ferreting out this sort of thing.

Midway through their meal, Di arrived in a flurry of excitement.

"I have the most thrilling news," said Di as she sat down. Her gray-green eyes were shining as she spoke, "I was late because I was helping Faye convert the study into a guest room. Mrs. Ashton has a distant relative coming to visit – a Mrs. Amanda Hobart."

A general hubbub arose form the table. Di usually did not elicit much sensation but this was an exception. Amanda Hobart was a recent entry in the literary world whose work had earned acclaim from readers and critics alike. The wife of the recently deceased Mr. Andrew Hobart, she was a globetrotter whose travel journals were masterpieces of exotic sites and interesting encounters with the local scenery. Everyone in the Bower liked her books, especially Persis.

"She's going on a tour to promote her new book- it's the latest in her 'Secrets' series called Pyramids and Papyrus. She's arriving the day after tomorrow. Just imagine girls," Di broke out into a wide smile. "I'm actually going to meet Amanda Hobart!"

"Di, this is perfect!" Persis broke out. "What could be a better article than an interview with Mrs. Hobart? Oh you have to let me in to see her! Please, _please_ with cream and sugar and chocolate sprinkles on top?"

"Oh, I don't know, Pers," said Di slowly. "Mrs. Hobart might be pretty busy. She'll only be here for a week and I know that she has several book signing sessions scheduled. But she's going to speak at several luncheons all around Kingsport- maybe you could go to those events instead."

"But the reporters of all the other newspapers and magazines would probably be there too," Persis pointed out. "My article has to be different. I don't want a lecture. I want anecdotes. I want real nitty-gritty details. And it'll be good publicity for her too, you know."

"I don't know, Persis…"

"Just make a request to Mrs. Ashton. Please? I'll make your bed for a week," wheedled Persis

"We-ell…" Di tapped her fingers on the table, thinking.

Persis could see that Di was weakening so she hurriedly sweetened the deal with, "What if I sweep the hall and dust the parlour for you? I'll even do kitchen duty!"

"That's a pretty scary threat, Pers," responded Di with a grin.

"Do ask Mrs. Ashton if you can, Di, before we all get stomach aches," Nan exclaimed, laughing.

"That was _not_ a threat!" said Persis, with mock indignation.

"All right, Persis. You don't have to do all that. I can't make any promises but I'll talk to Mrs. Ashton," acquiesced Di good-naturedly.

After breakfast the next morning, Persis received a call from Di.

"Mrs. Ashton said that you could go ahead and interview Mrs. Hobart tomorrow afternoon, since she has no engagements 'til the evening," said Di. "If you're not doing anything, you could come to Wild Magnolias with me after breakfast. Mrs. Ashton wants to meet you first."

"Di, you are just the greatest, most wonderfullest chum!" exclaimed Persis. "This is so wonderful. And of course, I'd love to come to Wild Magnolias and thank Mrs. Ashton personally."

After hanging up the phone, Persis spun into action. She stopped by the bookstore and saw through the display window that Mrs. Hobart's latest book was available. An announcement that Mrs. Hobart herself would be there for a book signing later in the week had been posted as well. She bought the book and spent the rest of the day immersed in it. Persis was a quick reader and by late afternoon, she had finished the book and was preparing for the interview, re-reading news clippings, book reviews and other articles on Amanda Hobart. She drew and re-drew her list of questions, quite nervous over interviewing a well-known artist. Most of her interviews before were with local personalities.

The next morning, Persis woke up extra early, spending so much time on her appearance that she was late for breakfast. She was even more beautiful than usual as she sat at the table, looking like an angel in her white lawn with a pearl pin at her throat, very quiet and composed. To the girls, it was a sure sign of perturbation of mind when Persis couldn't talk. Though they did find her agitation quite amusing. It was funny to see unflappable Persis pass the pepper when asked for the salt and accidentally stir salt in her juice instead of sugar. By the time she had dropped her fork for the third time, she gave up the pretense of eating altogether.

"Relax, Persis," soothed Di as they walked to Wild Magnolias together. "You've done interviews before and they always come out well. And no one knows more about Mrs. Hobart than you do- you've know all her books backward and forward."

"Thanks, Di," Persis said, managing a small smile.

Miss Pickford ushered them in the parlour, where Mrs. Ashton met them smilingly. She was an elegant brown-haired woman in a red suit, with a rosebud mouth and clear brown eyes. Her face was strangely familiar to Persis, but she couldn't quite place where she had seen her before.

"So you're Persis Ford, of the Society column of the Weekly Review. I enjoy reading your column every week though I admit, you're younger than I thought you would be," Mrs. Ashton remarked as she offered Persis some coffee, which she declined. "Diana has told me a lot about you and I think you and Amanda will get along very well. She agreed to hold your interview later in the afternoon. She's very tired from traveling and won't be down until later."

"I understand, Mrs. Ashton and I really must thank you for this opportunity," said Persis, offering her the box of chocolate truffles she had bought yesterday as a token of gratitude.

"Why thank you, dear, but really there's no need for it. Amanda was a journalist in her youth, you know, and she loves to help young people out. Now, I really must go but you're quite welcome to have lunch here with Diana and the children."

Persis blurted out. "'The Legend of Snow White and Rose Red'- that's where I've seen you before. Weren't you the lead in that play, Mrs. Ashton?"

"Why yes, I was," she said, sounding flattered. "Back then, I was Mara Fitch and I played Rose Red."

"I remember seeing you in it when I was seven," exclaimed Persis. "My older brother Ken was quite enamoured with you. For weeks, he kept a picture of you in his pants trousers."

"Did he really?" asked Mrs. Ashton delightedly, losing her reserved demeanor. "It was one of the last plays I ever starred in and many say it was my best."

"My mother would beg to differ, Mrs. Ashton. She loved you as Gwendolyn in 'The Importance of Being Earnest'."

"Why thank you, dear. Although I must admit, I would have liked to play Lady Bracknell– she was so amusing. Are you very much interested in the stage?"

"I love to watch plays."

"Myself, I've never really lost my ardour for it. I still have many friends in the business and have a box reserved in my name at the Theatre. I would love to talk longer dear but I do have a pressing engagement. It was wonderful to meet you, Persis."

Mrs. Ashton sailed smilingly away, looking ten years younger.

"See, Persis? You needn't worry about this interview. You have a natural talent for putting people at ease," said Di encouragingly.

After Mrs. Ashton's departure, Di introduced Persis to the rest of the Ashtons'. Alma, who was about to leave for school, received Persis very coolly indeed. Since she had that breakfast with May last year, she was acting more amiable towards her younger siblings. But her vanity had not altered one whit and she was always jealous of anyone prettier than her; and it could not be denied that Persis was a beauty.

Di and Persis moved on to the playroom, where Di presented Persis to the remaining Ashton children. Persis was not overly fond of children, in truth, she did not find them very interesting for they could neither understand nor respond to her witty banter. But she did proclaim Grace very sweet, May a budding actress and Aaron an adorable little man that would break hearts some day.

Persis settled down to hear the children's spellings until lunchtime and soon after, Miss Pickford announced that Mrs. Hobart was waiting for her at the study. Persis left the playroom with a chorus of good lucks echoing after her.

"Mrs. Hobart, this is Miss Persis Ford of the Kingsport Weekly Review," announced Miss Pickford as she ushered Persis into the study.

"Now Miss Pickford, how many times must I tell you that it is just Amanda? Mrs. Hobart just reminds me of my mother-in-law and a horrid old woman she was!" Amanda Hobart exclaimed, her green eyes twinkling. "Do sit down, Persis – I can call you Persis, can't I? It makes me uncomfortable to have people hovering over me like that. And sitting in front of the fire is so cozy, it makes me feel so chummy and confidential."

Persis smiled as she sat down, feeling that she would like Amanda Hobart immensely. She was in her mid-forties but looked much younger due to the perpetual smile that hovered on her lips. She was a rather squat woman but made the most of her figure with her smart brown suit. Her hair was light brown and her cheeks tanned.

"You write the Society column for the Review, don't you? It's very amusing- you have a clever way with words. Are you any relation to Owen Ford?"

"He's my father," replied Persis, her smile widening.

"Is he? How very providential! His first book – 'The life book of Captain Jim' – was one of my biggest inspirations. I loved to sail in my youth and I did model some chapters of my first book; the one about the Carribean? – after a few of the Captain's adventures."

It seemed a wonderful omen that Mrs. Hobart knew and liked her father's work. Persis' interview sped by. Mrs. Hobart could speak as well as she could write and had plenty of amusing anecdotes from her travels. She had a keen eye for detail and displayed a knack for painting vivid pictures with a few well-chosen sentences. She talked about the difficulties of being a writer in such an honest fashion that Persis was encouraged to confide her own. She found that she had quite a lot in common with the famous author.

"I do understand what you're going through my dear," she said sympathetically. "I began as a journalist too, in my uncle's newspaper. The other reporters didn't think much of me- a relative of the editor-in-chief and a woman to boot- despite the fact that I was news editor of my campus paper for two years in Montreal. My uncle assigned me to the Society column also and for a few weeks, I wrote about teas and parties, weddings and funerals. It truly was like a social registry- all names and places and dates!"

"That's terrible, Mrs. Hobart! What did you do?"

"Well, I started looking at other places of information. I scoured the city library and looked at the annals of the Historical Society, reading up on the family histories of the people I was going to interview. Then I would find I way to wangle that in the conversation. 'Mrs. Carter,' I would say, 'that's a beautiful Ming vase you have there. And that jade tiger you have over the fireplace gives your parlour such an Oriental air.' You see, I found out beforehand that her grandfather had been a missionary to China. She started talking about her grandfather's stay in China and she even showed me a few more pieces that he had brought out of Shanghai.

"Then for that week's column, I started scattering little bits of Mrs. Carter's story in between the others. I had entitled that week's article 'Mysterious Journeys' – and it was true even for the usual news, the weddings, births and the like – but it tied in to the pieces I was inserting also, you see. Luckily, my uncle had enough belief in me to give it a try and when the paper came out, I got dozens of letters telling me that they liked the story of the Missionary Carter and they even included little anecdotes of their own.

"I kept doing that for weeks and weeks, until my success eventually persuaded the features editor to give me half a page for my own stories. So you see, there's more than one way to skin a chicken – it just takes a little ingenuity and patience. So don't be discouraged. But you are a talented writer though, and I think your ambition should lead you to weightier stories than the social review."

"As it did you," commented Persis.

"Yes, that's true. When I got married, I resigned as a regular columnist and worked as a contributor. It wasn't until after my husband died that I started writing novels. You father began as a newspaper man also didn't he?"

"Yes, and he still has many friends in the business. My brother Kenneth wants to go into the publishing business as well. He's trying to set up his own paper now."

"I do still occasionally contribute articles to my Uncle's paper but as the years passed, I started writing longer and longer pieces. I wrote a novelette about my trip to the United States and it gave me enormous satisfaction. Though I've never had it published, that's where I got my first inkling about writing novels. Then a year after my husband passed away, I took a trip to Europe– that was my first time crossing the Atlantic. My Uncle Rudy was a sailor and I think I have that little thirst of the sea in me also."

"So do I. I love the summers I spent in Four Winds Harbour.

"Oh, I've never been to that part of the Island. Do tell me all about it, dear."

Persis launched into an enthusiastic description of the harbour shore – the velvety green hills, the moist red roads and blue-grey sea that lapped at the foot of golden sand bars. She was about to launch into the story of Persis Leigh, her namesake, when they heard a knock on the door.

"So sorry to interrupt Aunt," a tall fair-haired boy exclaimed as he swept into the room. "Just pretend I'm not here," he said as he rushed to the desk, rifling through books and papers distractedly.

"Forgive my nephew, Persis. He's the dearest boy but so absent-minded," Mrs. Hobart said. Shaking her head in good natured amusement, she said, "What have you forgotten now, Hayden?"

"The car keys Aunty. I just want to visit some friends uptown before I pick you up for the luncheon," he answered, as he peered into a drawer.

"They're right here," Mrs. Hobart said, fishing them out of her purse. "You left them at the kitchen table last night,"

"Thank you, Aunty. I'll be back in an hour," he said pocketing the keys with a dimpled smile. "Nice meeting you, Persis," he said with twinkling green eyes as he walked away, with just a hint of a swagger in it.

"And that was my nephew, Hayden Hobart. Nice boy but living with him is like living with a hurricane," said Mrs. Hobart.

"But some might say the same of you, Amanda- never in one place for more than a year."

"I suppose I do live a rather unusual life. I've visited five continents already. I don't know what I'd do without Hayden; he's my constant companion. The boy is tireless, insatiably curious and never has a word of complaint tagging along with his old aunt."

"But I would love to live your life," exclaimed Persis. "It's so exciting – always seeing some new horizon, new faces, new places. Nothing humdrum about it – like working on a nine-to-five, day-in and day out."

"It is wonderful, dear. I suppose the itch to travel has always been in my blood. There's always a thrill when you see a foreign shore; that wonder at the kind of things you'll find. But it's nothing compared to the thrill of coming home. Man, I think, was meant to put down roots. But I don't expect you to understand that just yet."

_Young birds must try their wings_ thought Mrs. Hobart, _before they return to the nest_. She smiled, seeing a bit of herself in this young writer, so eager to take flight. Out loud, she said, "Well, this hour has simply flown by hasn't it? I would love to go on talking…"

"… and I would love to keep on listening," continued Persis with a winsome smile. "But I know you have a luncheon so I must not be selfish and keep you." She was already quite taken with Mrs. Hobart, who was so warm and friendly, yet such a woman of the world.

"I do wish you the best of luck, dear," Mrs. Hobart said warmly, as they stood up and shook hands. "Perhaps, we can talk again later in the week when I'm free. But for now, put your facile pen to use and write a spanking good article about me."

**4**

It was quite late Friday morning before Persis roused herself from her bed, luxuriating in the happy consciousness of work done. After her interview she had rushed to the Bower and locked herself in her bedroom to work on her article. She had so many interesting anecdotes from Mrs. Hobart that writing it was a snap and she seemed to finish in record time.

Afterwards, still bathed in the glow of Mrs. Hobart's encouragement, she took out a blank notebook and began writing her novel. Her heroine had already taken vivid shape in her mind – a dramatic young thing, not unlike herself. A rich New York debutante, Desiree Jones' opulent life was recently shaken by the disappearance of her father on her eighteenth birthday. Persis had always loved mysteries, and it seemed an ideal vehicle for bringing in exotic locales and harrowing adventures to test the spoiled Desiree Jones.

Persis rifled through the smudged pages with satisfaction. She had had Desiree leaving the comfort of her brownstone Mansion at the end of the first chapter, determined to uncover the whereabouts of her father. Persis was already itching to start the second chapter- she already had plans of revealing the presence of a secret society thousands of years old and a hunt for an ancient Mayan relic.

Still, even writers needed some sustenance. Persis bounded down the Bower kitchen, feeling so unusually blissful that she even managed toast and a poached egg, the upper limit of her culinary skill. She prepared a cup of coffee too. None of the other girls in the Bower liked coffee much – they preferred tea – but Persis loved the strong taste, the rich aroma. She considered herself quite expert at brewing too, adding just the right dash of spices – cinnamon, nutmeg or dollops of cream – to give that added flavour. She liked coffee best on dreary winter mornings for it seemed a break from the dull monotony of chilly weather. Though today was unusually fine.

She had just sat down and barely taken a sip, when a knock sounded on the door.

_Maybe it's Carl_, Persis thought as she walked down the hall to answer it. That would be wonderful- she had so much to tell him – and he loved coffee just as much as she did.

But when she opened the door, she looked into a pair of sparkling, silvery-green eyes.

"Well, you're looking spruce this morning! That's great- from what Di said, I thought you'd be asleep 'til noon. She told me you were burning the midnight oil writing that article of my Aunt's."

It was Hayden, Amanda's nephew, who was looking and talking to Persis in such a familiar fashion. In that way, he and his aunt were alike. Alike too, were their pale green eyes and light shining hair. But he was not stout like his aunt – on the contrary, he was tall and slender as a willow, even in his voluminous bright blue coat and striped muffler. He had winged golden eyebrows, a narrow jaw and slightly pointed ears, which gave him the look of a mischievous elf.

"I've got my auto idling outside but is that coffee I smell?" he asked, taking a deep delighted breath. "There's nothing quite like it in the morning. Aren't you going to ask me in? I wouldn't mind a second breakfast before we leave for the harbour."

"The harbour?" asked Persis quizzically.

"Yes, I overheard you mention to Auntie that you loved the sea. So I thought you might want to play skipper on our yacht today."

"Eavesdropping?" Persis asked with a raised eyebrow. But she was more amused than offended.

"Oh, I pick things up here and there," rejoined Hayden with a grin. "Now don't tell me you'd rather stay home than take advantage of the weather. It's a record high for this time of the year and it'll be awhile before you can feel the sea breeze before freezing your nose off. Let's have a cup of that coffee to warm our bellies before we set out."

Persis opened the door and Hayden strode in with his swaggering walk. His striped muffler flapped in the gray air like a banner, bringing chaos and unexpected adventure in his wake.


	14. Romances, Great and Small

Hi everyone! I know it's been awhile since I've updated this fanfic, but I haven't this one or Faith's Journey up. Thanks for your patience. Please read and review – would really welcome your comments on the different characters!!!

kellybell, X), dramaqueen45, bumblebei, laura, morgan, diane, berit, passingby, Lady Eve, Stephanie, Emma, Morgan, fawkes, lovejag, Kat Solo, aliane, crimsonkye, trina-k, dreamer: Thanks for reviewing. Hope you guys keep on reading.!

bosworth, lena-jade: There's a small bit about Nan/Jerry's relationship here. I find this pairing really fascinating as well, and I'm probably going to be writing a fanfic about them as well (though right now, it's a toss-up which one I want to do first – Faith/Jem, Persis or Nan/Jerry)

dahae: thanks for the tip! Will probably incorporate your comment when I revise the story. Glad you like Persis' character… I've tried to make her interesting, a little different from the rest, but not perfect. There are a few chinks in her armor, as you'll see in this chapter )

love books: Glad you like Daniel… you'll learn even more about him in the next few chapters!

ipegasus: thanks for the insightful comments… will try to incorporate what you've said about Anne in my revision.

Terreis, lovebooks, Bubbles : Thanks for reviewing. Would be interested to know what you think of Hayden in this next chapter )

Strawberry Lip Gloss: Thanks for the compliment! Would really like to know your view on the Hayden/Persis relationship in this chapter!

Yawar: Thanks for the compliment! Hope you like the rest of the fic )

beth015, AStarr, rachellynne: Thanks so much for the review! Am so glad you like Di/Daniel. As for Shirley/Jasmine/Faye/Sylvester quadrangle, I'm saving the best for last.

As for Una, I'm going to make a fic for her as well… small hint, I'm thinking of having her visit Europe to bring out the more adventuresome side of her.

On-fire-for-Christ, ikm: I've written a little bit about Faye and Shirley in this chappie )

Gufa: I'd like to think that this chappie advances everyone's storyline (well some more than others…) hope you enjoy it!

ipegasus: Is it Carl or Hayden? Well, keep on reading and you'll find out (but maybe not on this chapter yet)… )

Chapter 14: Romances, Great and Small 

**1**

It was a cold, dreary morning in January and the Bower girls were busy preparing for their regular Sunday brunch. The appetizing smell of juicy sausages drifted from the kitchen, where Una was frying a batch. Nan and Di were setting the table, and Faye was setting a tray with a pitcher of orange juice and toast on the table.

As was usual, one girl was missing from the preparations – Persis, who hated waking up early.

"So which one of us will go up there and drag her out of bed?" Di asked, when the food was ready.

"Do you think she's awake? She didn't get home 'til late last night," observed Nan.

"And you waited up for her again, hoping to get a glimpse of her mystery beau."

Nan grinned. "Well, that's the third time they've been out this week."

"But who's keeping count?" Faye chimed in innocently and the girls all broke out laughing.

"All right, what's so funny?" a cranky voice called out from the hallway. Persis had come stumbling down, obviously still sleepy, with her tangled blond hair and faded blue print dress.

"There you are, Persis!" pounced Nan. "You sit down right here -" she pulled out a chair beside hers "Una, you get Persis a plate of French toast and sausages. Di, you unhook the phone so there are no interruptions. Now -" Nan fixed her wide brown eyes at the dumbfounded Persis. "- tell us all about last night."

Persis glanced at the circle of curious, eager faces. Her sleepy blue eyes took on a familiar mischievous glint- she loved being the center of attention. "Oh I had a nice time," she commented with deliberate casualness.

Di groaned. "A dinner with some of the most famous artists and writers in Canada and all you can say is _nice_?"

"All right, all right," Persis gave in with a beatific smile. "I had a fabulous time. The food was scrumptious, the chocolate mousse was to die for. And the most wonderful part was that Hayden, Amanda and I sat at the same table with some of my favorite writers. They all gave talks about the topic – 'Working towards years of peace'. I actually spoke to Emily Starr Kent – she wrote the 'Moral of the Rose', you know - "

"What about her husband, Teddy Kent?" interrupted Faye. "I loved his painting the 'Ice Queen'."

"He was sitting at our table too. Such a handsome man, and he and his wife still had that honeymoon look about them. Mrs. Hart nee Sara Stanley was there too – the famous elocutionist and actress – did you know that she grew up in our very own PEI?"

"Yes, from Carlisle," contributed Nan, who admired her intensely.

"She gave a talk on what it was like to live in Paris during the war," continued Persis more soberly. "How she went around the recruitment offices giving speeches to encourage the soldiers, like Rilla did. She recited Walter's poem – 'The Piper'…"

A silence fell over the table. Una's smile faltered and a spark of old, remembered pain seemed to kindle in those dark blue eyes.

"Everyone loved it. Mrs. Kent said she couldn't have written a better herself," Persis said finally. She went on to describe the rest of the night – the beauty of the hotel, the speeches in the program and the delicious dinner afterwards. "Amanda, Hayden and I stayed at the hotel café just to talk everything over. It was so wonderful, we stayed up til past midnight just gabbing," she ended.

"I'm surprised you made it downstairs then," remarked Di. "You must be pretty tired."

"I actually haven't been able to finish this week's column," admitted Persis. She made a face, indicating that she was not looking forward to writing it. "I was just too sleepy when I got home to do it. I'm not much interested in the topic – my editor suggested it. 'The Most Eligible Men of Kingsport' "

"Or perhaps you're not interested because you already have your eligible man," Nan suggested slyly.

"Yes, you can't pretend that it's only meeting those writers that made your night so fabulous," Faye said, glad to be able to get her digs in.

"You little monkey- how quickly they do grow up!" Persis shot back. But her blue eyes dropped to her plate and an image of Hayden standing by the polished door of the hotel ballroom, in that snappy black suit, with a bouquet of violets in his arms…

"I think she's on cloud nine," she heard Nan saying and Persis came back to Earth with a thud. "Oh, I do wish I could've stayed up late enough to catch just a glimpse of him," continued Nan plaintively.

"He is handsome," corroborated Faye, who liked Hayden.

"But a little flighty," added Di, who did not.

Di and Faye knew Hayden of course; he dropped by at Wild Magnolias occasionally. But to Nan and Una, he was an enigma. She couldn't blame Nan for being so curious.

"I promise I will introduce you to him properly," said Persis hastily. "But please, don't make this out to be some wonderful love affair. I have only known him for little more than a week."

"But if you count time by heart-throbs…" Nan's voice trailed off significantly.

Persis fell silent and thought about Hayden – his sparkling green eyes, his wide elfin grin- and wondered if she was a little bit in love herself. It had been only a week since he had stopped by her door but she could hardly believe how quickly her life had changed because of him. Hayden often dropped by when she least expected it, whisking her off for some adventure. The first time they had met, they had sailed to Cape Breton Island and watched whales from the deck of his yacht. The next they had gotten on the train to see the ruins of Fort Louisbourg. Hayden was very much interested in war and battles and looking at the broken battements was like traveling back to the 18th century when the British and the French were at war. Even a visit in the Old Burying Ground, eating egg sandwiches and reading epitaphs had been fun with him

Maybe Nan was right and she was falling in love; but she was loath to admit it. After all her protestations against romantic nonsense – aimed mostly at Nan, who was Juliet incarnate when it came to romance - to turn right around and fall for a good-looking fellow who she'd only known for a week was… well, _embarrassing_.

"You'll meet him soon – perhaps I'll have him come to dinner Monday," said Persis, by way of closing the topic. "So what have you all been up to?"

"We're having an art competition in two weeks," said Faye. "It's to celebrate the founding of the Fine Arts department in Redmond. They've got all sorts of categories – sculpting, drawing and painting. I've got less than a week to submit my entry; I've decided to work with oils. Winners get a cash prize and an interview in the 'Kingsport Art Journal' – not that I think I'll win of course," she added hastily.

"I'm sure you've got a very good chance at winning," Una remarked. "Haven't you gotten A plus on your last three assignments? And Professor Collins is a tough teacher, I've heard. "

"Yes, but this time I'll be competing with the upperclassmen – and they'll only be choosing ten finalists in each category. Grandma wrote and said that she's expecting that I'll be one of them. If I don't, she'll be justified in thinking that college was just a ridiculous expense."

"For a girl you mean?" Persis flared up. "She's the one who's being ridiculous. You're smart and you have heaps of talent and that's why you deserve to be here!"

Una laid a hand on Persis' arm to calm her down. "I'm sure if your Grandma was here and saw how hard you worked, she wouldn't think this way. Pay her no mind and concentrate on your painting. It will be beautiful, whether or not it wins."

"I sure hope so," sighed Faye. "The awarding will be held at the Wellesley Gallery the week after next. If I do make it, I hope you'll all go. I don't think I could face all those judges alone."

"Of course we will," replied Di. "And the timing is just perfect too with Daniel is coming in a fortnight," she added, her grey-green eyes sparkling.

"He is?" exclaimed Faye. "Oh that's wonderful! But why hasn't he written to me about it?" a quizzical note of hurt entering her voice.

"I've just received a letter from him this morning – yours is probably still in the mail," Di said reassuringly. "He said he misses us all and wants to come up for a visit before he begins teaching at the new nursery school in Blue Pearl."

"I'm surprised that Daniel can afford the trip in the middle of January," observed Persis. "Not that I don't want to see him but it will be pretty expensive, paying for the passage and then renting a room. Teachers don't get paid much and he spends money like water."

"Oh but he has been saving money lately," Faye chimed in. "He worked all through Christmas vacation, filling in as a clerk at the general store in Blue Pearl - said it was time he started laying some money away. It is funny that he'd come to visit me so soon after Christmas vacation though."

Di shrugged, though a pleased smile crept up on her face. She knew the reason for the visit, even if the others didn't.

But before Nan or the others could notice, the doorbell rang and Di sprang up to answer it.

"Hello, Di. Is Persis awake?" Hayden Hobart greeted jovially, his bright red auto parked in the Bower's driveway.

"Yes, she is awake but I don't think she's ready to see you just yet," said Di, who did not think much of Hayden's habit of dropping by unannounced and expecting Persis to fly all about town with him at all hours.

"Oh why don't we let her decide that, Mother Di?" remarked Hayden cheekily. He had thought up of that nickname upon learning that she was the Ashtons' governess.

Di frowned but before she could respond, Persis stepped out onto the hallway and called, "Oh, do have him come in, Di. Everyone might as well meet him, since he won't stop pestering me."

"You're darned right that I won't stop pestering you," he responded breezing by Di and walking into the dining room. He and Persis exchanged teasing grins as he sat down with the girls. "Though if pestering you brings me in the presence of five such beautiful girls, I should do it more often."

"Well, you've met Di and Faye and this is Nan Blythe, Di's twin, and Una Meredith," said Persis.

"It's nice meeting you girls- hope you don't mind my borrowing Persis for awhile. Thought we could take a spin outside and have lunch together. I've discovered this great little place down Linden Avenue. It's called "The Lion's Club", a nice cozy lounge just like an English pub. They've got a roaring fire, tea, cushy armchairs and books and a delicious lunch menu. How about it, Pers?"

"I don't know, Hayden. I've got that article that I really must finish…"

"Oh you could do your writing there," wheedled Hayden. "The man who owns the place - Mr. Bradford, used to be an English professor at Redmond and he built the place just so the college crowd would have a nice place to eat in near the campus. He even got students from the Fine Arts department to paint murals on the wall. I've heard the atmosphere there is great – like stepping back in the Victorian era."

"Well, it does sound like fun," mused Persis, looking outside at the gray sky. It was such a dreary day and the thought of a brisk ride outside, followed by lunch at the 'Lion Club' did seem nicer than being holed-up in her room. "Though I doubt I could write anything with _you_ around."

"Can I help that I'm such scintillating company?" Hayden shot back. "Come on, Persis, I'll only be here for one more week," he added plaintively. "You can write any time you want, you're good at it."

"AlI right, let's go then!" hopped up Persis. "I suppose I can finish my article tonight. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed. You don't mind if I skip the dishes do you, Una? I'll do double-duty at supper tonight."

"Oh where have I heard that before?" Una remarked. "All right, go ahead and I'll take care of it," she said indulgently.

"You have my eternal gratitude from releasing Persis from her kitchen duties," said Hayden solemnly. Then, as if sensing Di's disapproval, he added, "And I promise I'll have her back before supper, Mother Di. I'll even help with the dishes."

"You needn't go through all that trouble," said Una.

"You're right. I suppose it would be easier if I just ate supper with you then. Saves me the time going back and forth," he quipped.

Nan laughed and Di shook her head. "I think we'd better set another place at the table, Una," said Nan.

Persis returned in a surprisingly short amount of time, wearing a dress of old rose, and carrying a black coat and muff. As always, she looked astonishingly beautiful and it was obvious that Hayden thought so also. His impish smile melted into dreaminess as he helped Persis into her coat.

Di felt her heart softening a little. Perhaps it didn't matter that he was rather fast, for he really did seem quite infatuated with Persis. Which was good, for even though Persis joked and bantered as if Hayden was Jerry or Carl, Di suspected that Persis had more serious feelings for Hayden than she let on. Persis was friendly with boys, but she usually made them work for her good graces. Hayden had had it easy so far.

It seemed that Nan was thinking the same thing. "Well, it looks like Persis has finally met her match," remarked Nan, nodding in satisfaction, as Hayden and Persis drove away.

**2**

The Lion's Club was everything that Hayden described – a quiet, cozy place frequented by collegiates from Redmond. Some walls were covered with murals depicting famous scenes in Victorian literature. Persis recognized Heathcliff, Kathy and the moors of London on one wall and monkeys swinging from and snakes slithering around the vibrant green branches of trees from Kipling's "The Jungle Book". The walls in the back were paneled in dark walnut and held shelves of books and magazines. Brass wall sconces shed a golden light over the room.

Hayden and Persis chose two plush armchairs near the back of the room, where it was quieter. There was a low buzz of conversation around them – pockets of students puzzling over assignments or chatting over tea and sandwiches. The round polished table between them held a charming brass lamp, a spike of lilacs and the menu printed in delicate looking parchment.

"Now, isn't this much better than being cooped in your room all alone, brooding about that daft article that editor is making you write?" asked Hayden, after Persis had ordered crumpets, sandwiches and Darjeeling tea.

"I like the atmosphere but I'm not very sure about the company though," Persis said archly.

"That so? Then I suppose you wouldn't mind me going back to the Bower and spending the afternoon with Nan Blythe," Hayden retorted, pretending to swoon.

"Stop it!" reproved Persis with a laugh. "She's practically engaged to Jerry Meredith. He would break your arm in two if you come near her."

"Oh yes, the preacher-man," he said, shaking his head mournfully and slouching disconsolately in his chair. Then he looked up with an impish glint in his green eyes, "I guess I'll settle for an afternoon with you then."

"Settle?" growled Persis.

"Truce, truce," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "In fact, I have a peace-offering," he said, pulling out a copy of Miss Emily Kent's book of poetry "The Tomorrow Road". Only the expensive, limited edition had been released so far – the regular hardback would not be out for months. But what made Persis exclaim loudly was -

"It has Miss Emily Kent's signature!" She reached for the slim volume eagerly.

"I had her sign it when you were going for seconds at the buffet table. I was planning to give it to you later but now seemed appropriate."

Persis stared at the elegant scrawl with a relish and then casually flipped through the pages. A photograph tucked in between the leaves came fluttering out and fell on the carpet.

Persis picked it up. It was Hayden's family picture, taken some years ago – he was probably sixteen, Persis surmised. She was surprised at how little Hayden resembled his father and elder brother, Burton. They were dark haired, dark eyed and stocky, with a certain heaviness about their jaw. Hayden was fair and slender, with a boyish air.

"If you're wondering, no, I'm not a foundling. I just resemble Aunt Amanda more. She and Mum were cousins," Hayden said.

Persis nodded, gazing at the picture with interest. She and Hayden had talked about every conceivable thing under the sun – art, literature, the woman's movement, their favorite food – but Persis realized that they had never really talked about his family. "So how are your folks?"

"They're doing well in Vancouver, I suppose. Last I heard, Burton and his wife had a baby boy – little Burton Andrews the third."

"Well, congratulations on being an uncle! How is your little nephew?"

He shrugged and said dismissively, "Sleeping and eating all the time like most babies. I actually haven't seen him yet. Haven't been back home in almost a year."

"You haven't been in to see the baby?" With the Ford family, kith and kin gathered from all over Canada to welcome a new member of the clan. "I thought that would be your first stop coming from Europe."

"Oh I gave my brother a call when I heard the news and I sent a present for the baby. But, mostly I stay out of their way."

"Why?" Persis asked, her curiousity piqued. For despite her wanderlust, Persis always took care to keep in constant touch with her family. She loved receiving letters from home.

"Oh, I exasperate them," he replied flippantly. "My mum especially. If I come within three feet of her, she'll start lecturing me about going back to the U and becoming an accountant for my dad's firm. And all the time, she'll be throwing girls at my head every chance she gets."

"I know exactly what you mean!" exclaimed Persis, remembering the summer she had spent in Four Winds before she moved to Kingsport. "And don't you hate it when they hint broadly about someone's prospects?"

"Exactly. As if choosing a wife is no different from buying stocks. But Mother thinks it's high time I settled down like Burton. Now, he was the golden child!"

"How so?"

"Oh, he was the obedient and steady first-born son. A lot like my father- they thought alike, spoke alike, even looked alike. At one point they could have used each other for shaving mirrors. Burton took over the family business when dad died. He even married the perfect girl – Sharon Adams, heiress to twelve trading ships and the proud possessor of the only necklace with twelve diamonds in town.

And then I came along and they wondered if the fairies had played a trick on them. I was never good in school – couldn't sit still long enough. Of course, they could sit reading the papers 'til they grew moss on their north side. And I was a terrible clerk - I was no good at numbers. And when you have an entire family who are practically married to their ledgers, that's a real tragedy. And let's not forget this whole war business," He shook his head, a rueful grin on his face. "Now _that_ was a fracas!"

"I take it your Mother wasn't willing to have you enlist? But I can't say I blame her. There was a time I wanted to tie my brother down and keep him there until the war was over."

"But you didn't, did you Persis? A girl like you would understand that no man could keep himself out of the greatest war of the twentieth century. But not Mother. She was _furious_. She and Burton had no use for the war. To her, this was just me taking on a silly whim again. Going for a lark after light's out, the way I used to when I was a child. If she could, she'd have hauled me over me over her knees and spanked me."

Persis could definitely imagine stocky Mrs. Hobart doing that to willow-thin Hayden and had to hold back a shriek of laughter. Hayden had the most irreverent way of speaking. No one else she knew would have discussed their family in quite this way. "So how did you escape her clutches?"

"I snitched my dad's auto and went straight to the Air Corps. And then after the war, Aunt Amanda asked me if I wanted to travel with her and I jumped at the chance. I knew I was never going back to the U in Vancouver anyway. We always understood each other – she and I. I like my freedom and being able to go when and where I want."

"I can understand the appeal myself," Persis remarked, tempted at the thought of unbridled freedom.

At that point, their food arrived and their conversation paused as they sampled the treats. Persis was nibbled delightedly on a crumpet with cream when she saw a familiar golden brown head, standing by a rack of magazines.

"Carl!" Persis exclaimed. Carl looked up from the magazine he was reading and smiled at her.

"Do come over," she called and he strode over to them with a heavy pile of books in his arms.

"Hayden, this is one of my dear friends, Carl Meredith. Carl, this is Hayden Hobart," Persis said as Carl took his seat in the third armchair beside her.

The two men exchanged greetings affably before Persis spoke again, "So what are you doing here, Carl?" she asked, feeling a twinge of guilt. She hadn't seen or spoken to him lately. She had been distracted - and the reason for the distraction was the blonde haired man sitting across her.

"Oh, I've been locked up in the study hall all week. I've got two papers in Biology due next week, not to mention a Latin oration to memorize."

"See? That's why I've stayed out of the four walls of the academe. It just ruins your fun," Hayden said with a lazy grin.

"I suppose I feel that way myself sometimes, especially with weather like this," Carl said, referring to the dreary gray day outside. "Still, I'm going to need a college degree to get a good job and make my living studying insects."

"Oh, there's more than one way to earn a dollar. Some fellows rely on book learning - but I've got my wits and charm to see me through," he said with a wink at Persis.

From what Carl knew of Hayden, it was having a famous aunt for an authoress more than a blarneying tongue that kept Hayden free from such worries. But to Carl's surprise and secret displeasure, Persis grinned back at him, not a whit bothered by his cavalier attitude. "If wit and charm is your currency, Hayden, you'd soon find yourself bankrupt," she quipped. Hayden made a mock angry face at her.

Then turning to Carl, Persis asked, "So how are things in the Glen? I got a letter from Mrs. Blythe the other day but I'm afraid I wasn't able to answer it yet. I heard your father was poorly this winter."

"Yes, he had a bout of pneumonia last week," Carl said with a frown. "Nothing too serious, Mother Rosemary said, with Dr. Blythe at the helm. You remember how he brought me round after my bout of double pneumonia. Still, Father hasn't the best constitution, with his weak lungs and he's so absent-minded that he keeps forgetting to bundle up. He's got Mother Rosemary and Mrs. Blythe shopping for wraps and thick winter things."

"He should have a daily dose of chicken soup. Mother told me that it was just the thing to keep away colds and chills," advised Persis. "What about you, Hayden? Any remedies?"

"Our governess used to make eat fresh grapefruit- and lots of it," he said, making a face. Still there was a note of disinterest in his answer.

"There's been a spate of engagements this past few weeks – Pat Brewster and Kachine Ambrose, for one. Brewster finally proposed to her since his inheritance had been handed to him after he came back from the war."

Persis was very much interested in the affair of Patrick Brewster and the exotic Kachine, whose smooth, dark brown skin and braids of glossy black hair made her childhood signomen - Squaw Baby – quite appropriate.

The two of them settled down for a comfortable chat over that affair and so engrossed were they that Persis barely heard the sound of the chair scraping on the hardwood floor. Moments later, Persis turned to ask Hayden a question and was surprised at seeing an empty armchair.

A glance around the room showed Hayden smack dab in the middle of a lively group – Redmond students from the ribbons pinned in their lapels. He was telling quite a story, his green eyes wide and his hands gesticulating wildly.

Carl followed her gaze and said, "I think I'd better go now. I didn't mean to intrude..."

"Oh but you weren't, Carl. I guess Hayden just got a little bored," Persis said ruefully. Hayden had the attention span of a butterfly.

"No, it's perfectly all right. Besides, I really do have to get going. I have those two papers to finish," he said, standing up. "I'll talk to you soon, I hope."

"Of course, Carl," Persis said warmly but it was plain she was distracted. Even as she stood to wish Carl good luck with his studies, already she was thinking whether or not she should join the crowd around Hayden or stay put and wait for him to return. She mustn't seem _too_ interested.

Carl shook his head in annoyance as he turned away. What spell did that guy put Persis under?

**3**

January this year was never allowed to settle into its routine of sleepy, dreary winter days. The chilly weather was warmed up considerably by the presence of Hayden - or rather, his habit of popping up periodically and proposing one escapade after another.

Nan, who found him exciting, went on a few of these excursions, much to Jerry's disapproval. To Nan's eyes, Jerry was as near to perfect as any man could get but one of his teensy faults was jealousy. They had had a fight over those harmless larks that caused the twins a sleepless night.

"I don't see why he should blow up over it. Anyone who has eyes could see that Hayden really likes Persis," protested Nan, as the two of them got ready for bed. "And if Hayden should flirt with me a little, well what's the harm in that? He hasn't made any promises to me," she added, which was a sore point with her.

Di nodded, sympathetic but not overly perturbed. "You'll soon set things to right," she remarked as they turned out the lights.

And she was right of course. The next day found Nan and Jerry cooing like two turtledoves. It was simply their way.

Nan might have found Hayden exciting but Di swung between grudging approval to irritated disapproval. He was a tad too persuasive; as Susan would say "that one could charm birds out of the trees" – and charm them he did – to midnight showings at the cinema, to nearby jaunts at Dartmouth. How was one supposed to get any work done with all that gallivanting?

"Please darling, I do have a bit of a sniffle," wheedled Persis to Una as the she and Hayden flew out the door. Her weekly article was late again, for the second time in a row. "Tell him that it will be on his desk first thing tomorrow morning."

So all in all, Di breathed a sigh of relief when Hayden announced that he and his Aunt had to leave for Toronto and then to Boston as the next stop of his Aunt's speaking tour.

But things were hardly allowed to settle down with Hayden's departure when Daniel arrived in Kingsport. Though it was really Di who was in a bit of a flutter over it. Nan couldn't quite make out why her usually calm and unruffled twin was so fussed over Daniel's visit. Nan liked Daniel well enough – but was he really reason enough to spend half an hour in the bath? And afterwards, Di took even longer deciding what to wear to supper.

"I wish I looked half as well as you, Nan," remarked Di almost enviously as Nan tripped about the room on a dress of pale pink print, wearing the sandalwood perfume that Jerry gave her last Christmas. "You look so elegant – and I could never wear pink."

"Oh Di, what are you talking about?" asked Nan. To her eyes, her twin was the one who looked unusually well, in a dress of silvery-gray. "You look like a queen in that dress, just like Mother. Daniel won't be able to keep his eyes off you."

Di blushed and Nan suddenly felt as if a light clicked on in her head.

"Di, do you - " But before, she could finish the question, Di had already made her escape, talking about how she must see to the stew bubbling in the kitchen.

Could Di possibly fancy- ? No, it was impossible… it was improbable… 

_… it could in all likelihood be true_, Nan thought as she sat down on the bed feeling discombobulated over her discovery. She remembered Di sitting by the hour writing long letters to Daniel during the Christmas vacation, the glass box that was Daniel's gift set proudly in their mantelpiece, that look of starry triumph in Di's eyes when she announced Daniel's visit. She would have ferreted the meaning of that sooner if Hayden hadn't distracted her.

Nan set out to watch the pair. They greeted each other warmly, the way old, dear friends might. Daniel looked very well in his dark brown suit, and as was his old habit, he had brought gifts for each of the girls. These were left to be opened later.

They gathered around the supper table; Daniel and Di sitting next to each other. Daniel chattered in his own inimitable way, telling jokes, teasing Persis, asking questions about Una's classes and the art competition in Redmond. He was as interested with stories of the Glen folks as if they were his own family, which pleased Nan very much.

Afterwards, the group had their dessert in the parlour – slices of delicious coffee cake, which was Daniel's favourite, and glasses of cool milk.

Faye and Persis was lounging at the rug as was their wont and Una and Nan took the two armchairs, leaving Daniel and Di to sit beside each other at the couch. They had often done so before so Nan couldn't quite put her finger on what was different but it was a good kind difference.

On second thought, looking at the glow in Di's gray-green eyes when she looked at Daniel and the playful way he would tug at Di's curls to punctuate a joke… it was a wonderful difference.

Finally Nan could stand it no longer. Under the guise of getting Persis and Daniel more cake and milk, Nan lured Di into the kitchen and finally confronted her.

"All right, Diana Blythe, no more shilly-shallying," said Nan sternly, as Di cut the cake. "Tell me – do you fancy Daniel Starke?"

Di nodded- rather sheepishly, Nan might add.

"And does he - ?"

Di nodded again, her cheeks turning rosy red.

"Oh I'm so happy for you!" squealed Nan, giving her twin an enormous hug. "How did it happen? When?"

And Di answered with a few well-told sentences, her eyes shining – the walk home after the play, the kiss under the mistletoe, the long, loving epistles that flew back and forth.

"… that night under the mistletoe was just too short a time to hold you, dearest Di, so I saved and saved all through the vacation so I can come up and see you in Kingsport. And there's no use for you telling me otherwise, for I have the ticket in my hand this very minute," Di recited, having memorized that thrilling passage by heart.

"I knew there was something to his visiting so soon!" Nan cried out. "Oh, I want to hate you for keeping this from me for so long but I simply can't. You'll be telling the other girls tonight, after Daniel leaves won't you?"

"Oh Nan, we needn't make such a big production out of it," replied the modest Di but she was really very happy and the flush on her milk-white cheeks were very becoming indeed, as she walked back into the parlour to serve more cake and milk.

Faye, who was staring at the fire looking disconsolate, was quite a different story. Silence from Faye was not unusual; she was a quiet soul by nature. But she had such a mournful look in her green-gold eyes that Una couldn't help but ask if something was the matter and Daniel stopped in midsentence to listen.

It all came pouring out then.

"Oh Syl and I had a huge row this afternoon because I refused to go with him to the opening of that new show at the Majestic. I had wanted to spend the night finishing my painting since the deadline for entries is tomorrows. I simply had to refuse and now he's furious with me," she sniffled, her eyes brimming with tears. "He said if I didn't want to go there were plenty of other girls who were willing."

The girls were instantly commiserating; Daniel and Persis were stormily indignant.

"That pig!" exclaimed Persis with so much venom that Una gave her a warning look. "As if you have nothing better to do than catering to his every whim. Doesn't he realize how important your art is to you?" Persis continued with a scowl.

"I think it's time I have a little talk with this Sylvester," muttered Daniel, jumping up from his seat, gold eyes blazing.

"Oh no, Daniel don't!" implored Faye who, despite her injured feelings, still could not stand to have her beau hurt in any way. "Syl's not as bad as you think. It's just that when he's angry he says all sorts of things. Oh, I'm certain he didn't mean that he was going to go with other girls. Promise me you won't pick a fight with him, Danny."

"He's not going to get away with treating you this way," insisted Daniel.

Seeing that Faye was really alarmed at the prospect of a fight between her cousin and her beau, Di jumped in soothingly, "We'll talk to Sylvester about this, Daniel. Don't worry about this fight anymore, Faye darling. Like you said, it will soon be straightened out. Just think about your painting."

With Di's hand on his arm, Daniel sat down reluctantly and Faye nodded, wiping her eyes. "Yes, my painting. I've been feeling so badly about Syl I haven't had the heart to work on it."

She stood up to leave and Daniel gave her a comforting hug, whispering, "You just tell me and I'll knock his block off."

"It's all right, Daniel," she whispered, mustering her brightest smile. "I was just being silly. I'm sure he'll call me tomorrow and everything will be all right."

Still, Faye sighed as she walked down the Nightingale Lane. "I do wish he wouldn't be so unreasonable." Despite herself, she felt a tiny spark of resentment. Why did Syl have to make her feel so badly just for doing something she wanted to do?

Daniel and the rest of the Bower girls spent the rest of the night talking over the affair. Una was inclined to be charitable, as she always was, but Persis was scornful and Daniel troubled.

"I never liked that Sylvester," he said frankly, as he and Di stood at the porch. "But Faye likes him so terribly…I'm just glad she has a friend like you to watch over her."

"He seemed like a nice enough boy – a little arrogant, but -"

"- he just doesn't seem like the right one for her," ended Daniel. "Not like you and I."

Daniel drew Di closer to him and all thoughts of Faye and Sylvester faded away for a time.

Nan and Di talked were still talking about Faye and Sylvester as they climbed into bed.

"Just between you and me Nan, I do wish Faye would consider going with someone else. Sylvester's handsome and smart, but he can be so inconsiderate to her," Di remarked.

"And Faye's so terribly young and naïve, she lets it happen. If he calls her, I bet she'd forgive him in a heartbeat," said Nan disapprovingly.

"I don't think he appreciates her enough – but she'll have to find that out for herself," Di said as she sank on her fluffy pillow. Her eyes strayed towards some snapshots on their mantelpiece – a picture of Nan and Jerry had stood there for months, now newly joined by a framed photo of a grinning Daniel. "If only Faye were as happy as we are."

**4**

The 20th anniversary celebration of Redmond's Fine Arts was a gala affair. The Wellesley gallery, with it's pink veined marble floor and crystal chandeliers, was crowded with Redmond students dressed in their best suits and most sophisticated gowns. A few of Kingsport's art connoisseurs traveled from room to room with glasses of wine, studying a paintings and sculptures appreciatively. The judges too were making their rounds, eyeing the art pieces with a more critical eye.

Faye knew that she should feel proud and happy. She was one of the finalists in painting- the only freshman to make it. The Bower girls and Daniel were all enormously proud and they were all here at Wellesley to support her. Prof. Collins, who was notoriously hard to please, had personally commended her and said she had a good chance at winning. There were other reasons why she should be pleased. Dressed in a white satin gown, trimmed with gold, Faye knew that she looked pretty as well. Nan had done her hair in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, classic but elegant, with a few curly tendrils framing her face. Di had lent her a string of pearls and she was wearing the crystal earrings that her mom had bequeathed to her. Raymond Fitzosborne, a wildly popular sophomore, had even paid her a compliment, saying she looked like an angel in white. Still, she felt hollow somehow.

Faye sighed. It had nearly a week since she had fought with Sylvester. He still hadn't spoken to her, hadn't called once on the phone or at Wild Magnolias. She had seen him in the hallways at Redmond but she was too timid too approach him and speak first.

She took a sip of her wine, all the while staring at a painting blankly.

"It's not a bad painting," a familiar voice remarked at her back. "I don't think it will win though."

Faye turned to look into a pair of tantalizingly familiar brown eyes.

"Hello!" The brown haired boy said with a smile that made her heart beat quicken. It was him – the boy she had met at the garden of Wild Magnolias. "Judging from your presence here, I suppose your Muse has between faithful to you lately. I'm sure you're one of the finalists."

"Why, yes I am," she answered, delighted that he remembered her.

"So which one of these paintings is yours?"

"Oh, why don't you guess?" said Faye, gesturing to the other paintings in the room.

To her surprise, he pointed to her painting almost immediately. "That one is yours."

"How did you know?"

"It's actually one of my favorites. There's something about it … it's hard to describe. I'm not very good with words. But there's something about it that makes me feel peaceful. "

"Those are the hills of the Cotswolds, my home in London," explained Faye. "I've been missing it of late, I used to spend so much time there with my chum, Gwen, or sometimes with our gardener, Juno."

"It reminds of this place we used to play in near home. It was just as green and just as serene. Your painting has the feel of coming from a different time … a better time. I don't know too much about art but I think you've a really good chance here."

"Thank you," Faye murmured, surprised at the thrill she felt. Not even Sylvester's most suave compliment had ever made her feel that way. "I hope the judges think the way you do. So who are you here with? Surely, you didn't come alone?"

"Oh, I came with Jasmine, a very dear friend of mine. She's very interested in art herself, though she's no artist."

"Oh," she said, feeling oddly deflated. Was this Jasmine really just a friend or...? Nan could wangle that information somehow. But then, what cared she if Jasmine was his sweetheart or not?

"There you are, dear!" a voice called, interrupting Faye's musing. A pretty brunette in a dress of pale blue chiffon approached him smilingly. "I do apologize for interrupting you but do you mind if I borrow Shirley? There's this lovely bust in the next room that I want him to see. I'm thinking of getting it for papa. Won't it look wonderful on that pedestal in his study?"

She led him away, gently but insistently so that the brown-haired boy, Shirley, could only wave goodbye helplessly, mouthing, "good luck."

And she hadn't even been able to tell him her name!

Involuntarily, she felt herself taking a step towards them when a shadow blocked her view.

"Faye darling!"

Faye blinked. It was Sylvester calling her. Of course, it was Sylvester.

"You must be shocked to see me here and I shouldn't wonder. I know we haven't spoken in almost a week," he said as he approached her. "But I've decided to come over and forgive you."

"Forgive me?" she repeated blankly.

"Yes, for refusing me," Sylvester said, very much in earnest. "You see, it hurt me terribly to think that your painting was more important to you than I am. But I like you so much that I'm willing to let it go and forgive you."

"Oh Syl, I didn't mean to refuse you. It wasn't about that at all," Faye said, trying to explain despite the welter of confused feelings rising in her. She was put off by his pomposity but at the same time, bothered by his obvious sincerity. She realized that she had hurt his feelings that night and it made her feel terrible. "Painting is just something I like to do also and -"

"Let's not talk about it any more, little doll," Sylvester interrupted. "I know that you didn't mean to hurt me and every girl needs to have a little diversion once in a while."

_A diversion?_ Faye frowned. She liked to think that her painting was a little more than a diversion.

"Let's put this little tiff behind us, shall we?" continued Sylvester, appealing to her with those ice-blue eyes and that smile she could never resist. "One good thing came out of it – it made me realize that I want to be with you more than any other girl. I didn't go to see that show. I gave the tickets away."

Faye melted. So he hadn't gone out and had a good time that night while she was feeling miserable. So what if he didn't understand about her painting? Perhaps she was expecting too much of him. Sylvester wasn't perfect. What mattered was that he cared about her, that he wanted to be with her.

"Let's go take a look around the gallery. That painting of yours is nice," he commented, noting with relief that her cool expression was gone. It had bothered him; when he first approached her she had seemed incredibly aloof, not like his adoring Faye at all. "This awarding isn't going to take very long, isn't it? Afterwards, the two of us can go for an ice cream at the plaza. I want to tell you all about my week…"


	15. Correspondence

It's weird to think that it's been almost two years since I've updated … I have missed writing and Daniel, Faye, Shirley, Di and all the other LMM characters. Hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I loved writing it – I'm definitely going to work on updating more often! – Faerie )

ipegasus: While I'm not sure if Carl is thinking about love right now… (he's all about the bugs currently!), there'll be a lot more on Persis and Hayden, Persis and Carl in the next chapters )

Joogie: Oh, Shirley and Faye will be meeting each other soon – now whether or not they end up together, you'll have to read and find out! Oh, Una won't be alone forever… but I think that's the subject of another fic. )

Vinaya: Glad you like Faye and Daniel… ) as for Daniel's hand, there'll be more on that later on…

Strawberry Lip Gloss: Hope you enjoy this chapter – it has Hayden and Persis, and a bit on Nan and Jerry as well! marzoog, **Emmy Award**: I just re-read the The Road to Yesterday and someday I'd love to do a fic on some of the other characters there… maybe after I get the Nan, Faith, Una fics rattling around in my head done! 

trina-k: Oh Shirley and Faye will be meeting soon though there'll be a few more bumps along the way…

**rachellynne**: Glad you like it! I always wanted to know more about Di, Shirley and all the other character LMM wasn't able to focus on… I guess the next best thing to reading about them is writing about them! 

LadyVisionary, EstellaB,Annabelle Marie, beth015, Buried in Thought, rcaqua, Spectral Cobra, bea, Ciryl, Ferrelyn ZellabyLaura r6144, NNichollaa, Arual, Lethe, dow7, diane, Kate Joff, Jo, fawkes, Steph Dreamer, Arie, crimsonkye: hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Chapter 15: Correspondence**

**1**

For much of January and February, the weather had been mild. Other than brisk winds and light flurries, the Bower girls enjoyed the wintry clime, going on ice skating parties and snowshoe-ing in St. Francis. Children ran outside, pelting each other with snowballs and sliding on icy patches with their boots.

Then like the old adage, March came roaring in like a lion. Gray skies and ominous winds whispered of oncoming tempests. With outdoor activities debarred for the time being, the girls spent much of their time in what Persis termed "writing parties" in their parlour. With a fire roaring at the grate and a tray of cocoa and sandwiches they foregathered on wintry evenings, catching up on their correspondence. It was a pretty scene, one that displayed the character of four very different girls living in one roof.

Persis was sprawled across the carpet, scribbling furiously with her hands covered in ink. Her hair was disheveled and occasionally, she chewed on her pen when stumped for a word, her legs swinging restlessly in the air.

Nan, curled up in her armchair, would rebuke her. She was looking as fresh and pretty as ever, writing on dainty parchment paper with the fountain pen that was her father's gift. It really was a splendid pen, one you could refill with ink, and she felt she must live up to it by filling her writing with elaborate scrolls and flourishes.

Una sat on the other armchair, with an afghan on her lap. She was always easily chilled. Her letters were neatly printed on snowy paper with a border of lilies. She wrote slowly, often getting up to see to one thing of another – whether it was the sugar plum loaf baking in the oven or the stew warming over the stove.

That left Di sitting on the couch, her back on the arm-rest and legs stretched comfortably across its length. Her pale green stationery lay across her writing board and at her side purred one of the cats that had taken residence in the Bower this winter. Freckle was a dear orange striped tabby, often sleepy and well content in his place, snuggled within the folds of Di's heavy winter skirt.

Being the most at home, it was Persis who was in charge of getting the mail and they spent many a happy hour that might otherwise have been dull and gloomy, reading them aloud. Then these letters were speedily answered and plump envelopes were stuffed in the mail the following morning. It is these letters that we might take a peek at:

**2 **

**(Letter of Di at the Bower to Daniel at Blue Pearl)**

Dearest Daniel,

It's been another chilly day here in Kingsport and I've just come home from the Ashtons'. I spent the last twenty minutes just getting out of my wet things and spent the longest time just sitting in front of the fire, toasting my toes. Yet today has been the brightest day in this month of wintry storms- because your box had come!

The children were a little restless today, cooped up indoors nearly the whole week. They were longing to go sledding at the Hill at St. Francis but I had to veto the trip as the snowdrifts were near as high as my knees. May was a little put out, Grace was teary-eyed and even Aaron was staring outside the windows glumly, ignoring his spelling lesson. Then the door swung open and Miss Pickford came marching in, announcing, "Miss Blythe, children, Master Daniel's parcel has come."

We all sprang up like jack-in-the-boxes and Miss Pickford was engulfed by reaching arms. Certainly it was the highlight of our day, discovering all the precious things inside. Grace was delighted with the little Sunday suit you sent over for Flopsy the bunny – give my thanks to Katharine for making it. Aaron loved the toy caboose you gave him; he attached it immediately to his train and even now, it must be chugging it's way through the miniature Alpine forests. May was charmed with her pink Quahog shell. We've been reading about the South Pacific Islands in geography, pining after tropical breezes, and she set it proudly on her mantelpiece. We devoured the ginger snaps your Mother baked but left the almond cookies for an afternoon snack … I wouldn't want Miss Pickford to think that I was _completely_ irresponsible!

And what could I say about the darling brooch you gave me, except thank you a million times?

_(Di gazed in satisfaction at the delicate pink and yellow flowers hand-painted in porcelain. She could hardly wait for spring to come so she could wear it with the new ruffled white organdy Mother was making for her.) _

I suppose Kat helped you pick it out. Persis calls it old-fashioned but I love the soft colors on the milk-white surface. Oh but you needn't be so extravagant, spending your hard earned money on me!

So how are your folks at Blue Pearl? How are the children at the school behaving in this weather? The Turner twins you wrote of remind me of the Pringles – they were students of my Mum when she was the Principal in Summerside for three years. They made her first few months rather difficult. The ringleader was one Jen Stedman nee Pringle, who always reminded Mum of Becky Sharp. They made up their quarrel though Mother wouldn't tell me how exactly except for this cryptic remark, 'Family pride started the quarrel and family pride ended it.' Jen visited Mother a few years ago with a little boy of her own so I suppose her days of terrorizing teachers were over. But whatever surprises they throw at you, whether its water balloons over the door and garden snakes at your desk drawer, I'm sure you'll survive and conquer them beautifully.

News from the Glen is rather scarce these days. I suppose it is difficult for mail to get through in this weather. Mother, Rosemary and Faith are all pre-occupied with the wedding preparations; it's to be in late June. There are lots to be thought of still, Faith's trousseau, the wedding banquet, the decorations and the invitations. Faith plans to do her house-hunting in the spring. Jem and Faith have decided to settle in Ashdale. It's really ideal; a decent sized town with a very modern hospital that would be great for Jem and for Faith as well. She plans to continue working as a nurse. They're close enough to the Glen to make frequent visits home and far enough away for it to be a real adventure, meeting new people and setting up their household. It makes me a bit lonesome to think that of them leaving; I'll miss Jem's teasing and Faith's laughter. But I suppose I should get used to the old crowd scattering to the winds; Ken and Rilla plan to be married in October and then they'll move to Toronto and Nan and Jerry will be wed next summer. When I think of being without my twin, I feel a wrench but I comfort myself thinking it's not for a year yet.

We try our best to keep busy here, though there is a temptation to doze like cats in front of the fire. Nan is busy brushing up on Dickens' for the Literature Society. Una has gotten involved in the Mission Society in Redmond and is occupied sewing shirts and socks for a poor village in Africa – she is really one of the dearest and sweetest girls that ever lived. Faye is busy catching up on her schoolwork; she and Sylvester have been out twice this week to some affair in Dartmouth. I've scolded her that she'd be better off at Wild Magnolias than out gallivanting at night but all she did was kiss me on the cheek and promise to be back early.

Persis spends many evenings scribbling away at something but she is strangely secretive about it. There are times when she goes about with a Pentecostal fire in her blue eyes and is good humoured at everything –she doesn't even quibble when we ask her to wash the dishes. Other times, she goes about rumpled and disgruntled, taking her coffee inky and dark. Then we know to stay away from her. Nan is hurt that Persis hasn't confided but I suppose she'll tell us when its time. I suppose she's working on a magnum opus of some sort.

And speaking of magnum opus, we went to a piano concerto the other day, sponsored by Redmond's Music Guild. O Norwell played well but his music didn't have as much feeling nor half as much charm as you. I can't wait until the summer comes. Do hurry and write back soon. It's only been a month since we were apart but you can't imagine how much I miss you!

Your lovingest Di

**(Daniel's reply to Di)**

My sweetheart Di,

I am so glad you liked the brooch so much. I was with Katya shopping at the time but I picked it out myself. She's sewing for the bridal party at my cousin Zachary Morrow's wedding and she was looking for the perfect beads to add to some sashes or some such thing. Anyway, I wanted to get you a present and Kat started talking about all the new Art Nouveau pieces – flamboyant, glittery glass things, with multicolored beads swaying in their thick stylized settings.

But when I saw the brooch, I couldn't resist. Katya said it was Victorian but I thought it was you all over. You don't need half so much fuss and feathers like the Longchamps' models I saw in Paris – you are beautiful just being you. As for being extravagant, that has always been one of my telling faults. Mums is always telling me to save for a rainy day but I say enjoy the sunny weather while it lasts and you'll have the memory of it as a buffer when the bad weather comes.

Everyone is in a panic, getting ready for the wedding – it's in less a week, as all here are fond of exclaiming every hour on the hour, it seems. I never knew there was so much to do in a wedding; I thought the hardest part would be the proposal and then everything just fell into place. But this is the first clan wedding we're having after the war. My brother Christian wanted a quiet wedding with just the family so we had it out back under the drift of cherry blossoms. This time around, Aunt Margaret decided on a grand celebration so we're having the ceremony in church and then supper at Uncle Alex's ballroom, which is just as grand as having it at a hotel.

Regan is inviting some of her Redmond friends to the reception – one of whom is a Faith Meredith. Sounds familiar? Yes, I will finally get to meet the famous Faith, without whom Zach and Regan aver, they would never have gotten married. There's a story there which Zach promised to tell me one day.

I'm glad you all are keeping busy. Faye doesn't write as much as I'd like though she's not such a dab hand with letters as you. Still, so long as she's happy and not staying up too late at night then all is well. I cannot wait to see you and Faye when school lets out. Already I am counting the hours until your promised visit to Blue Pearl. I know you will love it here just as much as I do and Mum and Dad are most anxious to see you. I have talked so about you that nothing else but the real thing will satisfy them now.

Now I must end this letter for I hear my sister calling; again, she must needs fit me into this newfangled dress shirt that is the latest fashion in Paris. Give all my love to the girls.

Yours,

Daniel

**3**

**(Letter of Persis at the Bower to Hayden, crossing the sea to the United States)**

To Hurricane Hayden,

Can I ever express how much I despise you? By now, you are crossing over the Bay of Fundy and boarding the train to Massachusetts while I am here… _here_… locked in what seems like an endless round of snowstorms!

You don't know how lucky you are to go off with your aunt to Harvard for her next book signing. Massachusetts is a perfectly fascinating place, a veritable cauldron of history and history-in-the-making. You have your pilgrim landings in Plymouth and chilling witch hunts in Salem. Your aunt will surely want to pay the Pyncheon's a visit at Hawthorne's House of Seven Gables. And we can't forget the infamous Boston Tea Party, where Americans first tried to throw off the shackles of Mother Britain or famed Bunker Hill of the American Revolution.

I know, I know… don't give me your 'I wish you were here's' for I do too – but what will my avid fans do without my weekly pearls of wisdom? Vince Ellis, who is making quite a name for himself in sports writing, has covered for me for two weeks but the public has simply been clamouring for the brilliant pen of yours truly. Not to mention that my editor is already quite suspicious about the personal business has been keeping me away from the Review's offices and the junior society columnist, Jennie Bitten – the spiteful cat - has been spreading rumors of me running off with a certain whelp of the Ferguson clan from Fife in hopes of getting published. Now who could that be, pray-tell? Oh I can just see you snickering but I'm not about to be upstaged by a socialite who peppers her columns with foreign phrases from French 101 and browses classics in the bookstore for her little clever-isms!

And speaking of literary ambitions, the urge to write runs true in this generation of Fords, it seems. My brother Kenneth seems to have found his calling - writing copy for the biggest ad firm in Toronto. He's on his last semester in college and heard that the executives were doing a big campaign for Butler's Best Butter and quick as a wink, he sent over a sketch of an ad he had cooked up. They raved over it and promised him a place in the firm as soon as he graduates. It's the perfect place for Kenneth's golden pen I suppose – he's just the type who can credibly exalt the virtues of everything from S.S. White Toothpaste to Mary Garden Rouge.

Now I really must fly for I feel the call of a certain Misses Jones, whom I left in deadly peril at Mayan temple deep in the Peruvian jungle. I must go and rescue her now for the sun is setting and it is my turn to hustle us up some supper.

It seems odd and too quiet not to have you rattling about. Do drop me a note or two in between your ramblings for I am longing to be…

Anywhere but here,

Persis Ford

**(Hayden's reply, scribbled on hotel stationery from Boston)**

My Dearest Authoress,

Thought I would scribble a note or two from this cradle of American freedom, Boston. Staying at the historic Omni Parker House, smack dab on Boston's Freedom Trail and host to the Saturday Club. Just think of sleeping under the same roof as those literary luminaries, Whittier, Longfellow and Hawthorned and Emerson! Looking out the window, I've got a view of Beacon Hill - rows and rows of statuesque mansions and gardens, like a line of stately old dames. Beantown is simply packed with history and interesting to-do's and I'm determined I shan't miss a single one.

We've barely unpacked and Aunty is taking her tea at The Last Hurrah but the first thing I did was to hie off to the Charleston Navy Yard and visit Old Ironside, so named because cannon balls simply bounced off her thick hull. Yes, I have been abroad the decks of the U.S.S. Constitution and I romped all over the deck and climbed up the sails like the monkey I am, until the guide was nigh scandalized. Do you know that is it the oldest commissioned warship afloat in the world? It was first launched in 1797 and sank four British frigates during the war of 1812. Could you imagine being the captain of this giant, steering it into war amongst the crush of waves and formations of ships while cannon balls fly overhead?

After I had thoroughly tired myself out imagining myself the hero of a half dozen naval battles, I walked around the navy yard, watched the old tars at work on their ships in various states of undress. There's always something wonderful and mysterious about harbors, don't you think? It's the all-conquering charm of the unknown I think, just the idea of setting sail to some unknown port, leaving all familiar things behind… though the world might have seemed some bigger to our forebears than to us with all our modern contrivances. I stayed longer than I was welcome to perhaps, until the snowfall made further adventures so disagreeable that I had to retire. Now I'm devouring The House of Seven Gables for Aunty is quite delighted by your suggestion and after her lecture we're to go see Pyncheon's. I like to know all about a place before I visit or I shan't fully appreciate it otherwise and for all that I didn't like my schoolbooks, I do like to read novels and poetry of all sorts. After that, we haven't quite decided what to do next – walk the Freedom Trail, watch a concert at the Boston Symphony Orchestra, perambulate over gardens at Franklin Park - such a wealth of choices. Aunt says we may need a vacation after this one!

You are in kinks of discontent I know, all cooped up in that house of yours, but since you can't come with us at least permit yourself to travel vicariously through me. I'll do my best to see and do as much for two. But now I must end this letter for its getting dark and the wind is howling through the windowpane and Aunty is calling for it's most dinnertime and we're headed down for our first taste of the famous Boston Cream pie, invented in the very kitchen downstairs.

And now I will court your displeasure and say I wish you were here because I do! Aunty is a brick but there's no one I like to ramble with quite so much as you. Tell me you're pining for me as I am…

Your Snow-covered Swain,

Hayden Ferguson

**(2****nd**** Letter of Persis at the Bower to Hayden )**

Ship Missive to Captain Hayden,

Midnight rides, raucous tea parties and revolutionary battles, oh my! Such decisions you have to make… are you a Pilgrim today, stepping off storm-tossed Mayflower, a rebel soldier or a dandy shopping at Quincy Market?

Alas for me, a humble snow-bound scribe. March roars as loudly as ever, so we while away the time scribbling, scribbling. My adventures are of a more every day sort but still, one will do one's best to amuse.

The girls and I had a rather funny encounter the other day. See, Nan and Di were so tired of being cooped up in the Bower's four walls, cozy as it is, and they were quite determined to take a nice snowshoe tramp at the first opportunity. Well, a day dawned that was brilliant and clear but very cold, and the Blythe twins took this as their chance for some fresh air. Somehow they inveigled me into it for they thought I was poring too much over my writing and needed a break. We bundled ourselves up quite thoroughly in thick clumsy coats, our warmest and longest mufflers, tucked our hair in caps and our hands in gloves, for there was a chill in the still air that would send a shiver down the very marrow of your bone.

Now I suppose the mix-up was really our fault. Nan had misplaced her new scarf, her old one was quite worn out and as she hated mending, she had put it off, so I gave her mine. It's the brilliant blue one with the monogram that I love, for it matches my eyes and near everything I own besides. I wore my old gray scarf, which I despised, for it is such a nondescript color. I think Una is the only one who wears gray beautifully among us; she has just the coloring to pull it off. I thought nothing of it though for who were we to encounter on the road?

But we were no more than a dozen steps from the lane when we ran smack dab into none other than Arnold Weimer i.e. the Owl, so known at Redmond circles for his scholarly air and large, blinking eyes that seem to take up half his face.

He had quite a case on me this winter though I've never encouraged him. Apparently, it hasn't worn off for he had evidently had braved the cold to pay me a call.

Now, Nan had a ways ahead of us, the result being that he saw her in my brilliant blue scarf first. So bundled up were we that really, naught but our eyes could be seen from above the thick coils of our muffler and noting only that P. Ford embroidered in gold, he sidled up to Nan and nervously asked if he might walk with her!

Di was in kinks of laughter and I was quite mortified but Nan that imp, accepted and hurried on before I could inform him off his mistake.

Oh it must have been a ghastly ten minutes with Arnold chattering on and on about the weather or some such thing, with Nan saying no more than the occasional, "yes", "no" or "how interesting". Finally he asked if he might buy her a hot chocolate at the nearby cafe.

"Oh, I'm very flattered but I don't think Jerry would like it," Nan replied in that maddeningly demure way of hers.

Oh, he left stumbling and stammering so quickly he never even heard Nan's laughing apology and her invitation to continue the snowy tramp. Poor Arnold! If only he would get rid of that habit of knowing everything of books and yet observing nothing of the world around him!

One thing of note did happen three days ago that sent the Review office into a flurry. A certain Sir Richard Courtenay, from a very old and venerated Kingsport family, has sent an announcement circulating in academic and publishing circles of his intent to put out a war book. It's rather a sad story really – his only son David died in the war and he thought it a fitting tribute to honor him. He especially wants a team of young writers and photographers to work on it, to give it as he says, 'the fresh, raw voice of those closest to this most glorious and terrible event'. The prize is a year abroad with a generous monthly stipend for the young authors to gather material and inspiration for the book.

There is much interest in the project, especially amongst my set. It has awakened some wanderlust in us; the old continent beckons, with its castles and museums, ruins and monuments. Yet I do hope it has enkindled also some deeper, nobler sentiment, some feeling to give honor to the many stories of heroism and sacrifice that have been buried in gravestones, war-torn fields and the silence of grieving hearts. I know there are so many unsung heroes for haven't I seen it so here, in the humble works of the Red Cross? Father and son marching to war while mothers who before knew only the tending of cradle and hearth, taking to the road to sell war bonds.

I will try for it; I need only submit an essay on what I should like to write about. Hopefully, he will find my thoughts on it worthy for I will never get another chance like this!

Your shore-bound mate,

Persis

**(Hayden's reply, a pack of snaps with hastily scribbled notes at the back)**

_Listen my children and you shall hear  
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,  
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;  
Hardly a man is now alive  
Who remembers that famous day and year. _

Certainly a hum-dinger of a war story, isn't it? As I'm sure your book will be – Courtenay will snap you up I'm sure, he couldn't find a prettier, cleverer pen-pusher in all of Kingsport. Here I am next to bronze bell cast at the Revere Foundry in 1804 – all 900 pounds of it! Old Paul was not only a Son of Liberty but was quite the industrialist. Here's a little something to give you a _taste_ of that colonial flavor

_(Persis takes out a neat little booklet where printed in archaic script at the cover was the title: "__Recipes From a 17th Century Kitchen". She smiles at the thought of having a colonial American dinner in the middle of a Canadian winter. The next photo however, earns a frown - a__ snap of Hayden clowning at a Swan boat with a distinguished looking girl beaming at him in amusement. She barely read the scribbled note at the bottom: A bit of the old world in the new – have you ever watched Wagner's __Lohengrin?_

_Her frown only deepens as she shakes out the last items in the bundle: a playbill from the Boston Symphony Orchestra and a photo of Hayden and the same girl in an opera cape at the steps of the symphony hall. She crams playbill and photo, the entire bundle, into her desk drawer, closes it with a slam and crumples the half-written letter in her hand before she stops, a single thought thudding in her mind._

_Am I jealous? she thought incredulously. She who had never been jealous of any one in her life! _

_Persis smoothes out the wrinkled stationary with a toss of her head and a mutinous set in her mouth. No, I am not. I shan't be affected by such a tiny little thing.)_

**4**

**(Letter of Nan at the Bower to her mother at Ingleside) **

Dearest Mum,

The winter has seemed interminable this past fortnight but at long last we've had a warm spell. I watch the icicles melt in the windowsill and each tinkling drop seems to sing 'spring is coming'! I can hardly wait for her arrival, for I long to see blooming buds and fluttering birds and a world of color once more, after weeks of blank whiteness and dull greys.

Everyone seems to sense that spring is near for she brings with her that primeval gladness that makes every step lighter, every voice cheerier. We all feel it. There's Di, who walks around with stars in her eyes on account of a certain golden-eyed musician. She and Daniel are getting along just splendidly; they write each other so much that Jem teases they're the cause for the rising cost of paper. He rings her regularly on Friday nights too and they just talk – and laugh – by the hour. I am so glad that Di has finally met the right one for her and I'm sure you'll like him just as much as we do, Mother, when he comes for Faith's wedding.

And what of our Redmond collegiates, you ask? Una is sailing along Household Science – her peanut butter snaps fetched second place in the county bake sale. Carl is doing just splendidly. He finished third in his Biology class and his name is up for a full scholarship – in South America, just fancy! If he keeps his grades up, they'll allow him to spend his entire junior and senior year studying abroad in the rainforests of Brazil… not an entirely comfortable thought, sleeping in tents, but it's a dream come true for Carl. Darling Shirley is acquitting himself just as well academically and when he talks of assets and equities, dollars and cents, I can already see him the venerable head of a bank. Will it be the Bank of New Brunswick? Hmmm…hmmm… on that note, Shirley is as close-mouthed as ever. Carl says he isn't going with anyone other than Jasmine… methinks, we may be hearing wedding bells ere long.

And speaking her wedding bells, perhaps another member of the Bower is headed for matrimonial bliss. Persis Ford has fallen - and fallen hard, as is her wont. His name is Hayden and he's the nephew of the famous writer. They had a perfectly wonderful month together before he was whisked away to go on tour with his aunt. She writes him perfectly voluminous letters and waits anxiously for his reply every day though she tries not to let on. He hasn't written in quite awhile and Persis is quite put out about it – I tried asking her if she's had some news of him and she near bit my head off. I suppose absence does make the heart grow fonder but I'm sure any day now, Hayden will return to sweep her off her feet once again and they'll run out the door on some new adventure. They really are the cutest thing when they're together just like two children at play.

I wondered if there was a way I could get some word to Hayden and let him know how much Persis misses him. I told Jerry and we had a bit of a spat over it. He said I mustn't meddle; Persis and Hayden's feelings for each other were none of my affair. He thinks I do it out of mere curiosity but darling Mother, you know it's just because I want everything to turn out right for the people I love. Even Cinderella needed a fairy godmother to help her meet Prince Charming and didn't that bit of meddling do wonders in Cinderella's life? Sometimes I wish I were more like Di – she's such a darling, housewifely woman that every one comes to her for a bit of comfort. She'd make the ideal minister's wife so isn't it odd that Jerry should fall for a dreamy butterfly like me?

Jerry doesn't realize how much I long to be steady and sensible and be his perfect partner in every way, I'm working hard at it but sometimes I feel like I'm making no headway at all. Still if Mrs. Blake can get used to living in a fishing village after growing up in Mount Holyoke then I suppose I can learn to adjust too.

Now I must end this letter for I hear the kettle whistling. Both Di and Una have colds and a bit of fever so I whipped them up some ginger tea. Persis, tired of all the wheezing and sneezing, has slipped into her room to write. She is a dear but she hasn't a motherly bone about her so it's my turn to play the jolly matron of our little home.

I think we're all a little tired of March squalls. I can't wait for April to come and sprinkle a bit of Her magic over the Bower – I'm sure we'll be over all our little aches and pains in a twinkling. Then the air will be golden and the garden will be a riot of flowers… I suppose I have a little fever myself. Spring fever, that is!

Your loving,

Nan


End file.
